Poetry in Motion
by Nymph Du Pave
Summary: FINISHED!!! Slash: Lex. Clark. CLex. Romantic interest. Poetry [sometimes I suck at summaries, sorry]. Chapters Eight, Nine & Ten - 'The Rest' 'The End' & 'The Poem' are up! Please read and review!!!
1. The Plan

TITLE: Poetry in Motion (1/6?)   
AUTHOR: Nymph Du Pave   
FANDOM: Smallville   
PAIRING: Lex Luthor/Clark Kent.   
RATING: PG-13   
SUMMARY: CLex. Lex. Clark. Romantic interest. Poetry. I suck at the summary, sorry! Please R&R. More coming soon.   
DISCLAIMER: The WB, DC Comics, MillarGoughInk, Tolin, Robbins, and Davola [along with whomever else] own this wonderfully cute show. I am merely borrowing the characters to use in my own evil ways and will try to return them as mentally cognizant and stable as when I took them [with the exception of the incredibly handsome and elegant Michael Rosenbaum of whom I might never let go ;)], but I can't make any promises. The Muse controls these fingers.   
AUTHOR'S NOTE 1: I'm not sure if Lana in the show has decided to show movies at The Talon and, in fact, I'm pretty sure she hasn't but, oh, well. This is **my** version of the universe and I say she has.   
AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: This one's a biggy. I started writing before the Season Finale, but the last episode is still 'Tempest'. However: the storm never happened and Roger Nixon's storyline does not exist. It was a great one, but not fitting to t**his** story. So, the winds passed by, Whitney never had the inkling to join the Marines [like he'd make it anyway; Whitney = Navy] and he and Lana were at the dance too. Lex and the employees bought out the plant. Chloe and Clark were never interrupted from their kiss and smooched as Clark is truly attracted to her [just not enough to fall in love with her]. Pete saw and clapped [and so goes the ever important role of Poor Pete].   
FEEDBACK: Has not been betad, not even by me. It's almost two and I've been up and out all day, so try to understand why I don't remember anything right now ;). Everytime I'd watch two of the episodes [can't remember epi titles, too early] I'd see **Poetry Thursdays** [I think that's what it said] advertised at The Talon over and over, and each time I'd think 'hmmm... I could do something there...' So, here the bunny is. Written _incredibly_ fast even though I shouldn't have [got troubles in original fiction/no-jobland; RL's kickin' my ass], so, **PLEASE**, no one get mad at me for not doing _ILS_ or _MotH_. I'm working on them too :p ;)   
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: nymph_du_pave@hotmail.com   
DEDICATION: To FaItHzAnGeL: who remains my steady bud, even though I never can find time write him or be a good friend   
To joedan84: who knows how to inflate my ego and make me blush horribly!!   
& To my boyfriend: who loves me even though I write gay porn ;op ;o) 

* * *

** Poetry in Motion**   
** by Nymph Du Pave**

_Chapter One: The Plan_

"You killed the priest." 

Lex laughed. "Yeah. That was a good one." 

"Um… You killed the priest." 

"Gotcha." 

"_You_ killed the priest." 

"Ahem." 

"You _killed_ the priest." 

He rolled his eyes. "Am I gonna have to hurt you?" 

"You killed the priest." 

He couldn't help it. He laughed again. "Did Pete really record that over and over?" 

Clark rolled his eyes. "You have no idea. I got SO sick of that part. I mean, come on. The part in _The Princess Bride_ where Chris Sarandon grabs Robin Wright-Penn-" 

"Then just Robin Wright." 

Clark nodded and continued, "-and tells her 'I would not say such things if I were you!'…" Clark sighed. "I can't get sick of that. But Tom Conti telling Giancarlo Gianinni 'You killed the priest!' well-over thirty times? Good God." 

"Over thirty?" 

Clark nodded. "Pete still has the tape if you want to count." 

"No thanks, really. Besides, I think Mr. Ross has enough of me vicariously without me dropping in on him." 

Clark frowned at him. "What do you mean?" 

Lex sighed. Was Clark really that clueless? Last time he'd seen Pete in person it had been behind the rather daunting barrel of Hamilton's gun. At least Clark was making the adorable 'I've got no brains but please blow me.' face. 

Lex doubted Clark had a clue what signals he was sending. 

"Pete doesn't care much for me." 

Clark shook his head. "It's not that, Lex. Really. It's just… People get intimidated by your name. I don't have to tell you that." 

"By my father, too." 

"Yeah, well…" 

Lex stretched and leaned back into the plush theater seating, watching as Clark ran his fingers through his hair out of frustration. How Lex longed for those to be his fingers, out of both envy for such a beautiful mane and lust for such a beautiful boy. 

"Why aren't you?" It was a question he found himself asking over and over, but he could never remember if they had discussed it or not. 

"Why aren't I what?" 

He paused for a moment. "Intimidated." 

"Because you weren't in a very intimidating state when I met you?" Clark winced at what he perceived to be a careless joke, but Lex laughed and the wince brightened immediately into a full-out smile. 

"Tell you what I do like, though." 

"Hmmm?" asked Clark, straw from his Talon Chug-A-Ton slipping sensuously between two pink, full, soft lips. 

Lex cleared his throat. "A killer. A dyed-in-the-wool killer. Cold-blooded, clean, methodical, and thorough. " 

"Now a real killer," Clark finished. "-when he picked up the Z-F1, would have immediately asked about the little red button on the bottom of the gun." 

"Damn it!" Lex laughed. "I thought I had you with that one." 

Clark shook his head and drained his drink. "Nope. I thought I had you with the _American Dreamer_ quote. That's a lot more obscure than _The Fifth Element_." 

"Yeah, but Gary Oldman was talking so damned fast with that horrible Ross Perot impression that you really couldn't understand him the first few times." 

"First few times? I didn't get what he was saying until I had him on caption." Clark stood and stretched signaling his readiness to leave. Lex wasn't yet ready to vacate the dark, intimate setting for the bright sunny outdoors where Clark would leave citing chores or friends or parents. 

Maybe he could convince the boy to have a seat and coffee in the Talon's dining area. Knowing the boy's stomach, he'd probably take up an offer for a late lunch. 

He stood and headed out of the isle. They were in the very middle and Lex got an idea. He sped up and heard Clark's footsteps work to match his. He neared the end of the isle then stopped short. 

As expected his less then graceful friend bumped into him, though there was a little more force behind the big body than he'd anticipated. The collision propelled him forward too fast for his poor sense of balance. Before he could reach down to steady himself on one of the armrests, strong, warm hands grasped his lower waist and upper hips. He could feel the tips of Clark's index fingers grazing the bottom of his ribcage and for the first time he truly realized that Clark had rather large hands. He'd always noticed, just not… well, _noticed_. Not in an on-my-body-Jesus-he's-hot-and-where-else-do-I-want-these-hands kind of way. 

"Jeez, Lex. Sorry about that, but you think you could give a guy a little warning before going from sixty to zero in less than two seconds?" 

He felt the hot breeze of Clark's continues words on the back of his neck and suppressed a shiver. Also expected had been the wave of self-disgust running through him. 

_Creep_, he thought. Yeah, in his life, up until Smallville, he'd done everything under the sun. Drugs (selling and partaking), blackmail, smuggling, piracy, spying, hacking (a personal favorite that had been hell to give up)… Everything except for pedophilia and that had never once appealed to him, no matter which end he'd been on. He'd never been one for older or younger partners, always preferring them as close to his age as possible. That way he was sure that, legally and physically- if not emotionally and mentally- they were of the same maturity. 

And now he felt like some miscellaneous sixty-five year old latching onto a fifteen girl, just to feel the swell of youthful breasts pressed up against his chest. Only there were no curvy breasts on this latest morsel, and that was certainly no feminine mound pressed in between his cheeks. 

_Anything to get a feel. Christ, Luthor._

"Uh, Lex?" Clark backed up but didn't drop his hands. He shook Lex gently. 

"Right, sorry," Lex said shaking himself out of his funk. There was still the bad aftertaste of perversity though. That would take hours to disperse. "Thought I left my cell phone." 

There was a moment of silence then a soft reply. "You didn't bring your cell." 

Lex nodded and pulled away from Clark, heading down the steps. "Right. Makes sense why I thought forgot it. Want to grab a bite to eat?"   


+_+_+_+_+   


Clark sighed and followed Lex down the new stadium seating of one of the Talon's two screen rooms. He walked a little slower and rubbed himself through his jeans. Though he'd backed up the instant he felt himself reacting to the contact, being pressed up against Lex like that had been a little too pleasant. 

"A little too Ralph," he whispered as his mind supplied another quote. Would Lex know anything about _The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_? 

_He'd have to. He was a teen when they were a hit. Right?_

His mind wasn't ready- or willing- to do the math. All he really wanted was to rewind his life back about thirty, forty seconds. This time when Lex stopped, abruptly noticing the lack of metal and plastic weight in his left pocket, Clark would knock into Lex just a little bit harder. He'd have reason to catch the man in his arms then instead of just balancing him. Clark really wanted to touch Lex, much more than the brief pats and the little elbow grabs. More than the 'accidental' brush of shoulders or knees or, sometimes, thighs. He wanted to put his hands on Lex and leave them there. He wanted to run his thumb over the plush lower lip of his pale friend. He wanted to trace the discolored scar marring the perfection of the upper lip. Wanted to have the nerve to ask just where Lex got it, so worried that it came from the hand that helped birth the brilliant boy. 

He wanted to move his hands to Lex's neck, shoulders, and lower back, kneading a tension that had to be beyond any that even Jonathon knew. Though money problems, hard work and an alien son no doubt added high levels of stress, at least Clark's father was beloved and respected by most of the Smallville, Glensdale, and Laurinburg farming communities. Lex had the wrong kind of respect and was despised by nearly all that met him. It killed Clark a little each time he saw the resentment of Lex in his own father's eyes. Jonathon was in so many ways his hero, and to see his hero failing an ultimate test of character was painful. 

Clark rubbed his hands together. He wanted to find a place where they could be alone so that he could test the strength of those thighs with his hands, wanted to see and touch the powerful body that he knew existed behind loose sweaters and expensive suits. 

** _~"Hide your power. Never let the opposition see just what they're up against. Your greatest endowments should be revealed only when necessary, Clark."~_**

Chess. Pool. Games. 

He wanted so much more, but refused to peek at Lex's own endowment, at his own physical superiority. X-Ray was not the way. Clark knew it existed whenever he got the chance to touch Lex. Like now. Slim, taunt waist with just a trace of muscle underneath the layered clothing topped off with the thin lavender sweater. 

His self-control- not using his special sight to see the body of the most amazing and beautiful man there was- he knew would be worth something someday, if only to draw out the sexual tension. When Lex had told him about Karen Castle coming in for the scheduled shiatsu instead of Debbie, Clark had almost exploded. How he had wished that could have been him. He had used that fantasy to torture himself several times, and since Lex entered his life, he'd dropped the amounts of self-pleasuring. The barn became the more humble, child-like abode it had once been; no more magazines- especially because now the body types were all wrong. He only left himself to his own devices when the emotions were too strong, when he couldn't go another moment with the thoughts of Lex touching him, whispering his name… 

Kissing him. 

Somehow that was most sacred of all. 

More than anything though he wanted to rewind his life to the days when Lex needed his friendship and he'd been either too selfish or too scared to offer it. Level 3 was the worst though. More so than the Pete/Nicodemus flower incident. 

Lex and Lionel's 'embrace' still haunted the darker side of his subconscious, reliving itself in a few very vivid, very lonely nightmares. He sometimes wondered if another one of his powers was picking up his best friend's thoughts and dreams because sometimes his mind was so very distinctly Lex-like that he couldn't find anything but traces of himself. 

His thoughts had rid him of his sexual ache and instead replaced it with an empathizing heavy heart. He ditched the thought of trying to catch Pete in a game of HORSE before 'The Sentinel' reruns and decided that, it being a summer Tuesday- no more school, how godly!- he'd do his best to convince Lex to hang out with him until curfew, which was one o'clock in the morning. Maybe he could even stay over at Lex's- No. Jonathon would never go for that. 

He grinned. But if he asked just right he could easily convince his mother to let Lex stay for dinner. Then later he could go stargazing with Lex. It was cold enough they'd need blankets- 'sorry, I've only got the one, Lex. Come here it's big enough for both of us.' and- 'oops'- if they just happened to drift off before Lex was supposed to go home, who could blame them> 

He could hear his mother's voice in his head defending the two of them to Jonathon:__

_ "Really, Jon. They're just boys. Boys that had an impromptu sleepover in Clark's hangout. If this was Pete, or even Chloe, would you be getting so out of sorts?"_

He shut his mind off from his father's reply and smiled. He had a plan. Spending the night with Lex, maybe under the same blanket as him- even if they were unfortunately still fully clothed- was going to happen. 

His smile grew into a grin as he pushed through the theatre doors well behind Lex. 

A sleepy Clark could grope without being obvious. A sleepy Clark could fall asleep against a well-muscled, much sought-after shoulder, then -'oops, again'- fall onto that sexy thigh and readjusting to fit right into the vacant lap, his mouth so close to- 

He shook his head. He could manage it. He could handle it- he hoped. He'd for his sexual urges to calm themselves. For Lex-gropes he'd do just about anything.   
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** TO BE CONTINUED...**


	2. The Idea

TITLE: Poetry in Motion (2/6?)   
AUTHOR: Nymph Du Pave   
PAIRING: Lex Luthor/Clark Kent.   
RATING: PG-13   
DISCLAIMER: The WB, DC Comics, MillarGoughInk, Tolin, Robbins, and Davola [along with whomever else] own this wonderfully cute show. I am merely borrowing the characters to use in my own evil ways and will try to return them as mentally cognizant and stable as when I took them [with the exception of the incredibly handsome and elegant Michael Rosenbaum of whom I might never let go ;)], but I can't make any promises. The Muse controls these fingers.   
FEEDBACK: Thanks so much for the lots of great feedback on the first part! It's great encouragement. Again, this part was written fast with no beta.   
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: nymph_du_pave@hotmail.com   


* * *

** Poetry in Motion**   
** by Nymph Du Pave**

_Chapter Two: The Idea_

"What's wrong?" 

Lex groaned internally, but plastered on a fake look of worry to match Clark's. 

_What's wrong?_ he thought bitterly. _Other than the fact that you're in love with her, still chasing Chloe and sexually frustrating me?_

He ignored the urge to roll his eyes. _Oh, that's right. You're not asking me. You're asking her. Little Miss Doe Eyes. Little Miss Adorable Smile. Little Miss Perfect Hair._

That one really got to him and he let his hand trail over the bald scalp. Everyone thought he was used to it but sometimes it hurt more than usual. 

"Lana?" Clark called before she left their table to get their orders. "What's wrong?" 

_She's just going to pretend it's nothing._

She bit her lip and shook her head. "Nothing really." 

_She's making you ask again. She wants you to beg it out over her._

Clark gave her a blinding smile that lit up her face and through a shadow over Lex's. 

_Easy bastard_. Lex contemplated taking lessons from Lana, but realized that since he'd still be missing the feminine figure, the face and the all-out Lana fatigue, it wouldn't bode well with his love interest. 

He swallowed and kept from sulking the best he could, the spoiled little boy in him coming out again. 

"Come on Lana, it's me." 

_Yes_, Lex thought. _It's you. You saw Lana as did I under the Nicodemus' spell. It liberates. You must be blind not to see the truth inside her, Kent._

"It's the Talon, actually." 

_It let Jonathon relax a little around the farm. You told me yourself he kept trying to jump your mother. So the inner romantic, primal man was coming loose. He just wanted to be free of all of his problems. Including me. He didn't have to hide what he'd been itching to say._

Clark frowned. "Why? What's wrong with it?" 

_It let Pete come over with his father's vengeance and with the broken soul of a lost best friend and try and rid your life of the plague that is me. He tried to help you. In his pissed off, childish state, he wanted nothing more than to be noticed by his closest friend._

Lana sighed. "It's Thursdays." 

_But Lana… Oh, dear Lana. She wanted to be a bad girl. She wanted to be a slut. But you don't know that, do you, Clark? Because all you know is that she hit on you in the pool. That the two of you kissed. You have no idea she practically sexually assaulted me here, in this little memorial to the dead Langs. Right over there, by the bar. She's hiding an inner slut, Clark. She's not what you think she is._

"The Poetry thing?" 

She nodded. "Yeah. It's not working, but I love the idea too much to let it go." 

_Look at her in all her pastel glory. She thinks she can fool people, but she can't fool me. Like she said, I'm the experienced one. I've been there. Done that. I would know about the innocent little girls. I've been around them, in them. She's just like so many of them. A viscous little vixen- _Nell_- waiting to be set free._

"My father… He just loved poetry." 

_I'm sure he did._

"I just want to try and keep the idea, you know? Honor his memory and the things he loved." 

_Keep the idea, just don't keep on Clark._

"What do you think, Lex?" 

_If only he were a little bit more Metropolis, he'd- Okay, maybe not, since the anti-Metropolis raising is one thing I love so much about him. If only he had that one little bit of the teaching, though. Something that says homosexuality is not the world's greatest perversity, that relationships between two men can be just as-_

Clark cleared his throat, startling Lex out of his dreary thoughts. He instantly flushed feeling guilty and dirty for thinking such horrible things about Lana. Even if he did suspect their truth. 

_What's happening to me? Guilty for _thoughts_? Oh, Clark. How thou doth influence, inspire and actuate thy crux._

"What?" His voice was dry. He hoped Lana would fetch their order.   
  
As if reading his mind, Lana smiled sweetly at them both. "I'll get you your food and drinks." 

They both said their thanks, then Clark turned back to him. "Are you alright?" 

He nodded vaguely, the start of a headache creeping into his temple. "Fine." 

"Liar." 

He laughed at Clark's mock-insult and looked up at the boy for the first time since Lana came over. His heart caught in his chest to see the simple smile, tinged with the slightest bit of worry. No one that beautiful had ever looked at him like that. Not in years. Too many years. And it wasn't that same kind of- 

He cleared his throat- something he found he did often around Clark- and looked down at his hands. "I've got a little bit of a headache, that's all."   
Hands. Soft mostly, marred by calluses at the tips from playing guitar. His one guilty pleasure. Well, one of his very few guilty pleasures. And the secret was safe with him because the tips didn't really show up unless his hands had been under water for more than a minute. 

What he wouldn't give to touch Clark's divine face with his hands. 

_Simple hands that could do no justice to the texture, the radiance, the-_

"-and then I asked you-" 

"What?" he asked, feeling guilty that he had again zoned out on his friend. 

Instead of looking hurt like Lex expected, the worry came back even stronger on Clark's face. "Are you sure you're alright? Not too tired, or I don't know, head-achy?"   
  
Lex smiled. "I'm sure." 

"Because we don't have to stay here." 

"Clark, I-" 

"Although, if you're tired you might not want to come back to my house later after all." 

Lex visibly perked up, both with his body and his face, at the slightest hint of more time to be spent with Clark, at the most meager fragment of proof that the boy preferred his company. The grin that split his face was short-lived. 

_Fuck. Be obvious why don't you?_

Clark smiled and Lex couldn't help it. His grin returned. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

It was hard not to just simper away at his friend's reaction to his offer. Lex had sat up straighter and the frown that had wrinkled the handsome forehead ceased to exist. 

"I'm not tired at all," he said. Clark wondered if he was imagining the inkling of buoyancy he thought existed deep in that sexy voice. 

"Good," he said and caught Lana approaching from the corner of his eye. His plan had been set in action. Now to just leave Lana happy in his wake. 

He breathed in, full of giddy energy he couldn't wait to expend with Lex later that night. He could think of several different ways to do just that, but doubted any of them would be put into motion any time soon. 

Lana approached the table with their food. "So, Lex. Did you think about it?" 

Lex frowned. "About?" 

Clark grabbed his two subs from Lana. "About Thursdays here." He motioned to Lana. "What she should do." 

Lex nodded and thought for a moment. "You don't want to give up that whole poetry deal?" 

"Right," she nodded giving them both a sweet little smile. "I'd like to try my best to keep it going." 

"Is the problem with participants? Or an audience?" 

"Participants," she placed their drinks down on the table and tucked the tray under her arm. "We've always got a huge audience waiting to hear bad poetry, drink and eat, but I just can't find enough participants. Or, well…" 

"Any?" Lex asked bluntly and Clark caught his eye. He had to admit Lex had a way of getting to the heart of things without feeling the least bit remorseful or embarrassed for being so candid. Sometimes, late at night when he would lie awake thinking of slate-blue eyes twinkling at him, peeling away layers of clothing so that pale skin normally hidden from his eyes was revealed in the moonlight…   
  
Getting to the heart of a situation bluntly. Being honest about life and love with no qualms. Sometimes he really admired that trait. 

Lana nodded and twisted a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Right. Any. Nell and I are getting a little tired of coming up with new poetry, and the crowd's kind of dispersing. I think all they really need is a little courage." 

Lex smirked behind his Pepsi. "Or incentive." He took a sip and put the drink down, ready. "You need to appeal to their greedy natures, Lana. As humans they need an impetus to get up on stage an make asses of themselves. Free stuff is just such a driving force. You offer them, say, a free cup of Java and a croissant and they'll be writing poems on the back of their hands just to get the freebees. And try a contest. Give away something like free coffee for a month to the winner." 

Lana didn't look so sure. "With my current profits?" 

Lex shrugged. "Business is about making compromises. You're in the green right now, so you shouldn't worry too much about a couple little giveaways here and there. What you should worry about is conceding that this is first about a personal venture, second about making a buck." 

Lana stiffened and Clark wondered why it was that this always happened around Lex. He seemed to put her on edge all the time. 

He frowned. Actually, Lana seemed to put Lex on edge too. 

_What the hell?_

"Are we talking about Thursdays or the Talon in general, Lex." 

He gave her a polite smile and even Clark felt the icy winds blowing. "Arbitration without jeopardizing your business Lana. Sometimes, despite what winning the Talon has taught you, every personal endeavor will not pull through." 

"I didn't win this place, Lex." Lex looked down at his plate suddenly and obviously uncomfortable with her out-of-character severe tone. "I _earned _it. You saw the plans. You knew the deal." 

_He also knew his best friend's love interest wanted to open up for business._

Clark wondered briefly if he had manipulated Lex into this at all. He honestly didn't remember. 

"And you keep thinking I'm going to fail." 

Lex sighed. "It's not that, Lana. I just notice your predilection for going to other people when you're in trouble. You especially have a penchant for Clark here." 

Clark blushed and looked at his subs, suddenly not at all hungry. He couldn't believe Lex said that and prayed that this was not another chance the millionaire was going to take to point out their fitness as a couple. Clark was one-hundred percent sure about what he wanted and, well, it wasn't Lana Lang anymore. Though, initial-wise she was close. 

Lana looked outraged and, as Clark suspected, her voice got lower. She was a natural at not making a scene. He guessed so many years with Aunt Nell 'Perfect World' Potter had taught her well. "He asked what was wrong. I was merely answering." 

"You asked his opinion." 

She shook her head. "Recount the conversation I wasn't even sure you were paying attention to. _He_ asked _yours_." 

With that she walked away, leaving Lex to shoot a startled look at Clark. "She didn't…" 

Clark shook his head. "Nope. I went straight to you. Guess that shows my own predilection, huh?" 

There was a look in Lex's eyes that he couldn't decipher but it jump-started his lazy heart. 

He took a sip of his fruit juice to moisten his suddenly very dry throat. 

Lex sighed. "I should go apologize." 

Clark shook his head. "I think the real reason she's so angry is you hit a nerve, Lex. You might have erred on who asked for whose opinion, but you were right about things."   
  
The older man raised an eyebrow. "Like?" 

"Like the fact that she uses this place more as a memorial than a business enterprise. Like it's not quite the fairy-tale bustling business she thought it was going to be. You were also right about how she's going to have to realize that sometimes she won't be able to conciliate problems without compromising the integrity of either her business or her parents memories." 

He was wondering where that particular insight came from, especially so articulately from his usually bumbling own mouth, when Lex smiled. Both eyebrows raised and fingertips began tapping on the circular table. "I'm impressed, Kent." 

Clark blushed at the look of approval in Lex's eyes. That 'something else' was still there if not stronger. A part of him- hell, all of him- wished that it was attraction. Passion. Love. 

At least he knew that Lex felt some sort of attachment to him. They were best friends after all. 

Clark got out of his chair, using it as an excuse to lay his hand on Lex's. "I'll be right back." 

Lex's eyes shot to the big hand on top of his then back. "Where are you going?" 

"I've got an idea." 

+_+_+_+_+ 

Lex sighed, his hand still tingling from where Clark had covered it with his own. 

** _~"I've got an idea."~_**

That was never, ever good. When it came to Clark it was worse. 

Lex sat back and watched Clark calm Lana's nerves. He noticed that the teen wasn't as wiry as she had been in his presence and he shook his head. She never could learn to hold a grudge.   
  
_I bet she could if she heard my thoughts about her earlier._

As much as he sometimes thought those things, he didn't really believe it so much as it was a convenient excuse for him not to like the girl of Clark's dreams. He'd never really had one until the little princess had taken a sniff of the power flower and gone wacko. He clung to that reason like a desperate mountain climber to a cliff after his lifeline snapped. 

Lana had hit on him big time and in his more Luthorian moments he liked to believe that he was holding that information until the proper time to introduce it to Clark. Kind of a 'Hey and by the way' deal, but he knew it was bullshit. He could never do that. Not that it would matter to Clark if he knew or not. The boy would still be just as infatuated because the same aspect of his personality that kept him believing in Lex would be utilized for Lana. And he wouldn't even hate Lex for telling him about the darker side of Miss Lang. Instead he would most likely misconstrue it as some strange action of friendship and protection. 

Lex sighed, thankful that he'd not ordered anything to eat because the sight of Clark's subs was making him sick to his stomach. 

He looked up. Well, he had no appetite for Clark's _food _at least. He had a pure famine for the hottie grinning like a fool and heading his way. 

Clark sat down at their table, his long legs brushing against Lex's. Lex noticed that the boy didn't pull away quickly. Or even at all. 

"What are you grinning at?" The gentle and consistant touch made the smile contagious even as it was disconcerting. 

"Oh… nothing." Clark dug into his sub with a sudden voracious necessity. His eyes looked down at his mangled food then slid back up to Lex's evilly. 

Lex tried not to spew his soda all over his friend. The sexy look Clark was giving him was enough get more than a little rise out of his libido. 

_Jesus._

If he wasn't careful he was going to have to spill his icy-cold soda on his lap before he could leave the Talon. 

"What's the se-" he cleared his throat before he finished the word 'sexy. "The evil look for?" 

Clark's grin only grew wider and more humored. "I signed us up for the next 'Thursday Poetry Night'."   
  
  
  
  
  


** TO BE CONTINUED...**


	3. The Surprise

TITLE: Poetry in Motion (3/6?)   
AUTHOR: Nymph Du Pave   
PAIRING: Lex Luthor/Clark Kent.   
RATING: PG-13   
DISCLAIMER: The WB, DC Comics, MillarGoughInk, Tolin, Robbins, and Davola [along with whomever else] own this wonderfully cute show. I am merely borrowing the characters to use in my own evil ways and will try to return them as mentally cognizant and stable as when I took them [with the exception of the incredibly handsome and elegant Michael Rosenbaum of whom I might never let go ;)], but I can't make any promises. The Muse controls these fingers.   
FEEDBACK: You guys are so great with the reviews!! Thanks so much! Hope you like this next chapter*.   
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: nymph_du_pave@hotmail.com   


* * *

** Poetry in Motion**   
** by Nymph Du Pave**

_Chapter Three: The Surprise_

Lex massaged the back of his neck, remembering his strangled reply. 

**_~"You did what?"~_**

Clark had been full of humor all throughout their lunch until they got outside and he'd taken Lex's silence to mean that Lex really was angry. Lex was, of course, not. He had just been thinking about Clark's offer to come over, wondering if it was still valid or if he should just drop the boy off at home and head back to the morbid, dank, multi-story abode that his father was so damned proud of. 

Clark had been so worried that he'd jumped the gun and committed Lex to something that he really didn't want to do, and there, he was right. Lex _didn't_ want to do it. But if Clark wanted him to jump off the communications dish atop 62 floors of LuthorCorp, naked sans a pair plastic wings on his back, and try and fly down to the street below, he'd do it with a grin on his face. 

So maybe reading poetry in front of a bunch of strangers wouldn't be that bad. And it wouldn't be so much harming his image in the town's eye as builing onto it. 

He remembered the sorrowful look on Clark's face as they hopped into his Jaguar. The farmboy had been truly afraid that he'd pissed Lex off. 

Lex breathed in remembering how he caught himself inches before cupping Clark's face, pretending at the last moment to pick a stray piece of lint off his immaculate company. It was getting harder and harder not to touch Clark and he was deathly afraid of what he'd do given the right situation and motivations. 

He'd assured Clark that he wasn't angry and then learned that the boy had offered not only their services but Chloe's and Pete's. Whitney was also supposed to show up for the reading with his own works. 

Lex, now sitting in the Fortress of Solitude, couldn't wait to hear that. He stared down at his mock Whitney-poem wondering whether or not to show Clark.   


_ Lana is so pretty,_   
_ I think I soon can touch her titty_   
_ Football's great_   
_ But work's made me so late_   
_ That now I'm not_   
_ On the team._   
_ I like faux crucifixions_   


_Am I nuts?_

He crumpled up the page tossing it into Clark's wastebasket. He could never show that to Clark. Especially since he'd giggled like the prepubescent teen he'd never received the chance to be when he jotted down the word 'titty'. And he wasn't even sure Whitney knew what 'faux' meant. 

_Whitney's not that dumb. And after his father's death and recent friendship with Clark you should reevaluate your tendency towards cruelty._

He shook his head, knowing that the likelihood of that was slim. He was mentally vicious to those that either stood in his path to reach his beautiful, soft, kind farmboy, or hurt said farmboy. He didn't know he if could change that. 

Footsteps echoed throughout the Fortess and Lex straightened himself up instinctively, pulling the hem of his shirt down to where it would tighten against his torso and show off his chest and arms a little better. He was proud of the shape he was in and, though he didn't flaunt it, he wanted Clark to know it was there. 

_Not that Clark prefers muscular forms_, he scolded himself. _Dumbass._

"How's it going up there?" 

"Meritoriously," he said, sarcasm dripping. 

Clark laughed. "That is so not a word." 

"I can't believe this has to be original," he complained. "I can't believe we can't just read our favorites." 

"I can't believe Lex Luthor's whining." 

"Why not just sign me up for the firing squad, Clark? That'd be more fun." 

Clark came up the steps with a bright smile and a tray of food. Lex ignored the pounding in his chest and stood to help but the boy just shook his head. 

"I've got it." 

Lex couldn't help but sigh as he sat back down. The prurient thoughts seemed to come naturally, even though Clark was so ethereal and surely deserved better than his best friend always thinking pervertedly erotic things about him. Still, Lex could not escape the clearly defined estrus he'd found. Whenever Clark was around, he was happy and horny. He wasn't sure he wanted to escape it. 

"It's so cool that we're allowed to eat supper up here. The last time I did this I was, like, ten." 

Lex's mind supplied to his drooling eyes that ten had only been five years ago for Clark, where as it had been eleven for him. 

That sobered him fast. 

"Well, I don't know," he started with a weak smile. "With the way your father abhors me? I'm sure his skin crawls every time you-" Lex trailed off catching Clark's panicked 'not now!' look and hearing the extra set of footsteps- softer, less striking- too late. 

"Shit," Clark whispered, startling Lex. The boy closed his eyes in a wince. 

Jonathon made his way up the rest of the steps with the second tray. Coughing uncomfortably in the ample, dense silence, he nodded at Lex. His lips were pressed flat together in a look of reluctant acceptance to Lex's presence not only in the barn, Clark's personal place, but in his son's life in general. 

For a moment cold washed over Lex as he realized with finality that there would never be a genuine reception for his attendance at the Kent house. Though Martha was warm to him, kind, she still kept her distance, being overly polite and not inviting Lex for anything unless it was seemed rude to do otherwise. She was kind to him for what he meant to Clark, unlike Chloe and Lana and Pete. She genuinely liked Clark's other friends. 

Lex was not wanted by anyone except Clark and- though warmth spread through his belly at his friend's ability to see something worthy in his soul- his heart felt chilled. 

"Have a nice supper, Clark. Lex." Jonathon nodded to him stiffly again and all of Lex's hopes for a 'No, I don't really hate you, Lex' speech flew out the window behind him. He hadn't even known he'd held such inane fancies. 

_Fuck it_. 

He sat down on the couch, suddenly tired, and held his head in his hands.   


+_+_+_+_+   


Clark wanted to scream at his father, but it wasn't as if he didn't know the behavior was due. The moment Lex opened his mouth about Jonathon, Clark knew exactly what would happen. Jonathon would graze the borders of polite and out-right rude, not mentioning anything about what Lex had said. He would leave. Lex would feel bad and try to push it aside, like he was stronger than that. Like it didn't matter, though Clark knew different. Lex would then try and excuse himself, citing an early meeting in the morning that he 'really should get home and rest' for. 

_The mansion is not his home_, Clark thought bitterly. 

He turned and saw Lex, noting the norm hadn't happened. Lex instead had slumped on the couch the moment his father headed down the loft steps. The vulnerable position startled him, his best friend's smooth head held gingerly in clenching and unclenching hands, the soft sigh and heavy breaths… 

Was Lex finally about to break? 

_No. No way. The last person to truly upset Lex Luthor would be my father. Lex can deal with him and his stupid prejudices… Right?_

Clark quietly tread over to the couch and sat next to Lex, suddenly unsure of the impact that Jonathon Kent had over the young scion. Could the things his father said actually jolt Lex? Clark knew it hurt his feelings but… But was he right in assuming that Jonathon's words cut deeper than he'd previously believed? 

Gently he placed his hand on Lex's back, ready to remove it if Lex sensed more than friendship from Clark. True, he loved to touch Lex, but this was more. Lex needed him, didn't he? And Clark found himself needing the comfort almost as much as he was sure Lex did. 

"I'm fine, Clark," came Lex's strangled voice. "Just… It's just…" 

"The headache," finished Clark, knowing Lex's lie well now. "You seem to be having a lot of those lately," he commented quietly. 

Lex sighed. 

"It could be a tumor." 

Lex chuckled, but it was such a slow, sad sound that it cut at Clark's core. "'Kindergarten Cop'." 

"No, actually," he swallowed at the empathetic thumping his heart was performing. He'd never seen Lex like this. 

**_~"You're the closest thing to a friend I've ever had. You don't have to hide anything from me."~_**

Well, almost never. 

"I'm really worried that it might be a tumor." 

Another laugh, more genuine, and this time the older boy punched him. A light punch in the arm, no impact to it whatsoever, but something Clark recognized as… human. As normal. It was the sort of thing that you did when you were feeling vulnerable and someone was helping you past that vulnerability. A joking gesture to dislodge overpowering feelings of intensity and intimacy. 

Clark didn't like Lex upset, but vulnerable was another thing completely. Vulnerable was something that Clark never could hide from his best friend, a state of mind and physicality that Lex saw him in all the time. The only times that he'd seen Lex in the same state of affairs was when he'd just saved his rich friend from certain death, or when Lex was tying to find out what his secret was. 

And still it had never been this strong, this extended or this… willing. 

His hand was still on the taut, warm back and if he didn't get it moving soon, it might take over the situation. It might pull Lex closer, and then his lips might ask for something Lex would never give him, could never give him. Somethings in life just didn't make sense, and though he knew these feelings for Lex made all the sense in the world to him, he didn't want Lex to leave because his stupid farmboy friend had just complicated their friendship, their _relationship_, all to hell. 

He started to rub Lex's back. "I'm sorry my dad acts like an ass around you, Lex," he said, startled that he was admitting out loud that his father was less than perfect. "I love him but… He just can't see past what his father's taught him. He thinks that since he never listened to a word Grandpa said while he was alive, the man's word should be his bible now." 

Lex looked up at him, eyes too bright for Clark's comfort. There was something in them that Clark recognized in an instant. His heart threatened to fall to pieces there on the floor. 

Lex was silently begging him for a reason. Any reason that could explain why he did everything in his power to prove he wasn't Lionel, to prove he truly cared for Clark, to prove that he had a semblance of 'human being' and 'sentiment' inside of him… He was imploring from Clark a reason why he could do nothing but good in front of the Kents and still be treated as if he'd _tried_ to hit their son with the Porsche. As if he had personally dumped all of the LuthorCorp waste on their property. 

_As if he shot me in cold hatred_, Clark thought. 

Lex had been under the influence of another meteor-infected- if Chloe's theory actually held true- human being, couldn't remember a thing, expressed worry that he might have injured Clark during his inebriated stupor. Nevertheless Clark's father no doubt still held grudge over the situation. Grudge that Lex could never know about. Therefore he'd never understand why he couldn't be trusted in Clark's presence. Why such enmity pored from the elder Kent at such a unsettling rate. 

Clark swallowed, pressing that thought away. Lex needed a reason he could grasp. "He and his father… Grandpa died during a really bad argument between them. Dad thought that Grandpa was wrong about something and later, after he passed away, it turned out he was right. Ever since Dad never doubted anything else he's said." 

Lex frowned. "What was the argument about?" 

There was a deep inhalation and they both looked towards the loft stairs. "Your father," muttered Jonathon.   


+_+_+_+_+   


Clark blushed and looked away, no doubt embarrassed that his father had overheard their conversation. Lex turned towards Jonathon, not the least bit perturbed by the other man's eavesdropping. "I don't understand. My father?" 

Jonathon nodded. "Let's just leave it at, I owe Lionel a debt I never thought I'd have." 

Lex watched as Clark and his father shared a look. Jonathon seemed to telling Clark he was walking a fine line telling Lex things that were none of his business. Clark flushed with guilt but did not look down, apparently deciding Lex was trustworthy with their little family feud secret. Either way, both looked like they needed to have a talk and it was getting late. He didn't mind getting in the way of, or enduring some Brady Bunch heart-to-heart; he had several times. On Lana. On farmwork and homework and chores. On driving. Once even on drinking. 

He had the feeling though that this was going to be a full out argument. He just hoped it wasn't the one that would eventually remove Clark's light from the end of his tunnel. 

He stood and shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling depressed and rejected. "I really should be going." 

Even as Jonathon was nodding his approval, Clark's hand shot up to clutch Lex's elbow and pull him back down to the couch. "No!" 

Lex dropped onto the couch, wincing at the tightness of Clark's grip, but happy for the desperation evident. Even if it was just to prolong company in order to escape from the eventual fight, Clark needed his attendance, and he was fine to give it up. 

Clark noticed the wince and jerked away from Lex. "God. I'm sorry," he whispered. 

"Clark?" There was an edge of worry and fear in Jonathon's voice. 

"Are you alright?" Clark asked, troubled and ignoring his father. 

Lex frowned at the typical overreaction. What was it with Clark that made him think everyone else was as fragile as blown glass? "I'm fine, Clark." 

Clark nodded. "Dad?" he started, looking up at his father. "Lex and I were just talking. I'm sorry that I mentioned Grandpa, it just seemed-" 

"You were right." 

Clark and Lex both looked at him stunned. Jonathon just stared at his shoe. 

"Lex, I apologize that I have never really given you the chance that my son's friendship with you implies you deserve. It's just…" 

Lex and Clark waited patiently. 

"I trusted your father once. A long time ago. We were- pretty close. We lost contact over the stupidest thing. When I went back to him after years, I needed a favor. He seemed to be there in my time of need, in mine and Martha's, and I thought… Well, that doesn't matter. Years later he produced a debt he suggested I owed him." 

"I'm sorry." Lex had never doubted that Jonathon disliked him because he was worried for Clark's sake and to find that it was something his father did personally to them… It didn't really surprise him. After the incident at Level 3 his father really couldn't surprise him any longer. 

And there was always the look Lionel and Jonathon shared. His father's **_~"I never forget a face"~_**. Despite himself, his curiosity was winning out. He tucked it into the recesses of his mind, something to pull out later and mull over. Maybe he'd even eventually ask Clark for a more detailed version of the story. 

"I apologize, Lex. Clark has always been a tremendous judge in character. Even all the more so lately, and maybe it's…" 

Lex's heart held still in his chest, frozen in hopes that Jonathon would just finish his goddamned sentence. 

"It's probably time I gave you a little more then a weak benefit of doubt." He walked over and reached his hand out. Lex took it, finding promise in the callused warmth. 

"Thanks, Mr. Kent." He was thankful his even voice betrayed not an inch of the emotional gratitude he felt. "I appreciate that." 

Jonathon nodded and took his hand back. "You boys enjoy your dinner. Martha made brownies for desert." 

With that he turned and headed down the steps. 

Lex turned to Clark, eyebrows raised. 

"What?" Clark whispered. "Don't expect me to understand him. He's my father, remember? He's more of a mystery to me than anyone else."   
  
  
  
  
  


** TO BE CONTINUED...**

* I'm not really sure where the whole Jonathan thing came from. The direction completely switched and it came out of nowhere really. That's actually why I titled it 'The Surprise'; it surprised me. 


	4. The Sleepy-Head

TITLE: Poetry in Motion (4/8?)   
AUTHOR: Nymph Du Pave   
PAIRING: Lex Luthor/Clark Kent.   
RATING: PG-13   
DISCLAIMER: The WB, DC Comics, MillarGoughInk, Tolin, Robbins, and Davola [along with whomever else] own this wonderfully cute show. I am merely borrowing the characters to use in my own evil ways and will try to return them as mentally cognizant and stable as when I took them [with the exception of the incredibly handsome and elegant Michael Rosenbaum of whom I might never let go ;)], but I can't make any promises. The Muse controls these fingers.   
FEEDBACK: More, more, more! You must never, never stop!! :) I love hearing what you think and I'm so very glad you're liking this.   
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: nymph_du_pave@hotmail.com   


* * *

** Poetry in Motion**   
** by Nymph Du Pave**

_Chapter Four: The Sleepy-Head_

Lex smirked. 

"What?" Clark asked, suddenly paranoid that Lex had somehow sneaked a peek at his poem. That would be, well, embarrassing. 

"You have brownie on your nose." 

Clark flushed and wiped at it. Lex snickered and shook his head, looking back down at his book. 

Clark dropped his pen and crossed his arms, wishing he'd not moved down to the floor. Whatever insane ideology told him the couch was to blame for his discomfort deserved to be rendered lethal. Now he sat on hard wood instead of plushy cushion. Now he sat seven feet away from Lex instead of two. He was   
more than a whole person away from the older man. 

Clark's eyes roamed over the graceful figure. Lex in his baby blue sweater that clung desperately to his shoulders, biceps and chest. Lex in his sexy, pressed slacks that stretched, tightly drawn against all the right sinewy parts. Lex with his sock-covered feet- Clark had yet to see them bare- pulled close to him on the couch, book in one hand, face resting on the slender fingers and soft palm of the other… 

He looked so soft and inviting that Clark had to keep from just closing the distance and kissing a pale cheek. There was something about a curled up Lex holding his face up with one hand, wearing a slight smile but no shoes. He looked so different. Lex normally looked sleek and elegant and so damned untouchable. Walking with finesse and talking intellectually. Always with the air of mystery. 

Now he was so close and pretty and, though he was still elegant, he wasn't illusive. It was the kind of elegance that begged to be touched, to be held. A kind of elegance that appealed to Clark's heroic nature because he'd be damned away for all eternity if Lex's sexy form didn't just scream a need for someone's- _mine?_- embrace. For someone's whispered declarations of love and promise. 

Clark would have to be stupid and blind to not notice his friend's lonely lifestyle and the tolls it was taking on him. He'd guessed correctly that even Victoria's added presence in the Scottish Castle hadn't done much for Lex's state of happiness. If anything, she'd only made it worse. 

_He's so pretty._

Most of the fog around Lex's mysterious aura had been removed, pulled back, and it revealed a regular person, not some machine calculating every move, every breath and blink. The machine that Lex wanted the world to see so that he would be, _could _be, safe. The machine Clark had always known was bullshit. 

For once instead of satin, Lex looked to be well-loved cotton, worn and airy, more comfortable than any other piece of clothing. Been though hell and back but most of the worn spots didn't show, and when they did you didn't care because you just… you loved it too damn much. 

Now if only he could explain that love in understandable terms that wouldn't scare the older boy away or make him feel like a ragged old tee. 

Clark shut his eyes and stretched. He began a fake yawn and, as expected, it morphed into a real one- it usually happened with him. He cracked his neck from side to side, picked up his pencil and looked back to his paper, pretending that he was having a hard time concentrating on the words. He needed to play up the sleepiness if he wanted to just crash on Lex's shoulder. 

_Now, how to get back on the couch…_

He yawned again and heard the results of it's contagious influences. 

"Damn it, Kent," complained Lex through his own yawn. He looked up from his book. "Are you tired?" 

Clark met Lex's eyes, willing to show an abundant amount of affection. "Are you going to leave if I am?" 

"Well, yeah." 

"Then no. I'm plenty awake." He couldn't decipher the odd look Lex was giving him, other than happiness, so he looked back down to his paper, wincing. Pretending his neck hurt him, he reached back and massaged lightly. Shifting, he hissed at a phantom pain in his back. He let his hand travel towards some random spot behind. 

"You're not the sharpest farmboy in the haystack, are you?" 

He looked up innocently. "What do you mean?" 

Lex gestured towards the couch. "Would you get up here before you screw up your back completely? That posture is screaming 'out of kilter spinal column' and I'm pretty sure your parents need you to continue doing farmwork." 

Clark ducked, letting his hair fall forward to hide his triumphant grin.__

_ Who da man? _He was good. 

He grabbed his pen and paper close and pushed himself up. 

_Mental List_, he thought.   


1. He got Lex to come over   
2. He got Lex to stay for dinner   
3. He got Lex to stay _after_ dinner   


Now for part four of his plan: getting into Lex's lap. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

Lex watched with interest as Clark walked over to the couch, seemingly free of all grimaces that would imply back and/or neck problems. 

_Could he have been faking it? Could he have wanted to-_

"Nope," Lex muttered, cutting his thoughts off as he shifted his feet off of the small couch to make room. Standing had just been better posture for his spine, and besides, Clark wasn't the type to make a big deal out of a little back pain. 

"'Nope' what?" Clark asked plopping down sleepily next to Lex. In his drowsy state he'd failed to notice the full foot on the opposite side of the couch, but Lex wasn't about to complain. Not when Clark was this close, so gloriously touching him. Not when his thigh was not just brushing up against but instead plastered to Clark's. He could feel the sinews flexing as Clark shifted in the seat, noticed when the boy winced. 

Lex dropped his book to the floor. "Where does it hurt?" 

Clark looked at him, eyes heavy. Only moments ago the boy had seemed fine, awake and alert. Lex guessed that when his best friend crashed, he really _crashed_. 

"Where does wha- oh, right. Um, here." 

Clark massaged part of his neck. Lex followed with his eyes and nodded, wondering if he'd have the courage to go through with what he wanted to do. "It's from sitting crossed-legged then bending over your notebook like that. You've been down there like that so long it's probably done a number on your vertebrae." 

He reached up and grasped Clark's hand. Just touching Clark was intoxicating and he struggled to keep his libido in check. 

The boy looked startled at the contact for a minute until Lex moved the hand aside. 

_There's nothing wrong with your male best friend giving you a neck massage_, he thought wishing he could use _The Force_ on Clark, or at least some convenient pendulum. Unfortunately both worked only on the weak-minded and easily influenced. Clark was neither. 

He rubbed for a minute, friction warming the skin of his palm and Clark's neck. Clark's eyes fell shut. If the boy wasn't so damned tired Lex would take the action as something sensual, something of a sexually curious action. After all, he was getting full body tingles from just touching a new area of Clark's body. So far he'd had to appease himself with hands and arms, cloth-covered shoulders and back. Now there was the neck and- praise Lex's lucky streak that got the two of them in this situation in the first place- the silky tips of Clark's hair. They breezed against the back of his hand, tempting, pleading, with him to just touch. Just a little. 

Lex kneaded the muscle beneath his fingertips, hoping to keep his hand in place, and at the same time eliciting a deep groan from Clark. 

"God… Lex…" 

The gratified whispers sent a bolt of desire lightning fast to his groin, and he had to stifle a whimper. Clark saying his name in a tone that close to ecstasy was beautiful, all his dreams ever portrayed him wanting. 

"That feels so- so good." The last of Clark's sentence became a squeak as Lex intensified the strength of the massage. Clark took a deep breath and moved closer. He lay his head on top of Lex's shoulder then nuzzled into Lex's neck. 

Lex stiffened, unsure and ignoring the burning in his face. "Um, Clark?" 

"Yeah, Mom," Clark breathed. "Don't worry. I'll get up in five more minutes. That's all." 

Lex smiled at Clark's ramblings. "Okay, sure. Five more minutes." He let his hand pull free and slung his arm around Clark's shoulders, not intending to wake up his friend at all. If he could stay like this all night, Lex'd be happy. And if he could actually fall asleep- he didn't really think it possible- then wake up with Clark still in his arms, then at least a small selection of his dreams would have come true. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

Clark nuzzled Lex again, amazed at how much he was getting away with. Sure he was 'sleepy' but Lex was letting him do a few things that Clark wouldn't allow even Pete in his more somnolent moments. And Pete got _weird_ when he got sleepy. Sleepy or drunk. 

So Lex was letting Clark get way close. Even threw his arm around him. Sure sometimes it was a friendly gesture, but now? Each time he pressed into Lex's neck, the boy's hand tightened on his shoulder. Just barely, but Clark could feel it and couldn't help but wonder if it was a reaction born of careful patience or hidden desires. 

Was anything else on Lex tightening? Could Lex possibly feel the same? Could Chloe be right about all the looks Lex gives him. 

_Chloe_, he thought wincing. He had put her emotions through a maelstrom the last few weeks. 

In a moment of emotional weakness during a fight with his father, Clark had stormed out to the barn only to find Chloe sitting on the couch, waiting for him with a huge, bright, and utterly out of place smile. It had withered when she'd seen the tears and she'd asked him what was wrong. Besides the few powers he'd had his entire life- that later turned out to be the alien thing- Clark had never really been that good at hiding things. Particularly his emotions. He'd broke down about a few things and Chloe had merely put the pieces together. He'd hated the heartbroken look in her suddenly shiny eyes, but she told him it was better for her to know about his feelings for Lex now then in a few months, when he turned sixteen and was available age-wise if not gender. She knew the first sign of Lex's interest after that would break anything that she and Clark had managed to form after the dance. 

"Lex's interest?" he'd asked and opened a whole new 'can of worms' as his father would so eloquently put it. A can of worms that he believed Chloe had completely imagined, but something that he'd no doubt kept in mind. 

She'd suggested that the looks weren't all that innocent, that more than a sane amount of devotion lay beneath those gray-blue irises. That the pats and touches and graces were more like desperate strokes of affection. That Lex invited him over and clung to his presence out of more than a need for friendship. 

That she would know the signs of anything ranging from puppy-love to a full fledged case of the 'head-over-heels' syndrome. 

Clark took a slow breath in and breathed out even slower. He'd never believed her, of course. Lex having feelings for him? A dorky fifteen year old sophomore, barely a blue collar son? And male? Easily the least sophisticated person on this side of Kansas? 

_Whitney has more of a suave essence than I do._

Lex was so masculine, so strong- without unnatural, freak-like powers- and elegant. He was so painfully handsome, so pretty and how could he like someone that was too tall, too big and awkward? 

Clark breathed in and out again. Still there were looks so hot and so intense that Clark felt body parts melting. He could always tell when Lex entered a room, especially after they hadn't seen each other for a few days. The chemistry between them was over powering. 

One time Lex had to go away for a month. Trip to Venice. He'd come back four days earlier than planned. Clark had been sitting with alone in the Beanery waiting for his friends at a booth in the corner when he all of a sudden he'd felt his body flush and his groin tighten. He'd just been sitting there thinking about nothing in particular, trying to decide what movie to go to and what to wear tomorrow with his new shirt when his body perked up, his blood running with lava and his head tingling. 

He'd looked up instinctively to find Lex just watching him. Not moving towards him, not talking with anyone else. Just. Watching. Him. 

He really hadn't been doing anything interesting. Not above the table anyway. 

Lex had looked down, embarrassed at being caught, and flushed, sending Clark's already hardening erection into full salute. 

Clark felt himself responding to the memory and breathed in again to control himself. He held the breath for a moment then let it out, slow and smooth.   
He felt Lex stiffen again and, if he wasn't mistaken, the older boy's heart began to speed up. He nuzzled again, but this time with a purpose. He wanted to feel Lex's jugular. 

The boy cleared his throat in an obvious effort to wake Clark, but it was going to be of no use. Nothing but his parents could move him from Lex. Not even a piece of the blasted meteors. 

_Hmmm…_

He couldn't feel the heartbeat that well, so he decided to move on. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

Lex was going through pure hell. Clark was nuzzling him and breathing on him, breath hot and moist and oh God what Lex wouldn't give to be a fifteen year old Lana right now. Lana could get away with anything and, really, being a girl right now would be good. Very good. Because then he wouldn't have to worry about the tightening in his pants. If Clark continued with his… Yeah. Lex couldn't let the boy continue. But did he have the heart to wake the sleepyhead? 

"Clark," he whispered his voice dry and crackling. Nothing. Instead of waking, Clark shifted his head down to Lex's chest. 

His breathing hit the 'critically shallow' list and when Clark's arm snaked around his waist and tightened he shivered. 

He'd had dreams. Wonderful fantasies that sometimes caught him by surprise at work or in the middle of a meal. Most of the time when he exercised, he thought of Clark. 

Clark's body haunted his nights with the most wonderful, tantalizing nightmares possible. Clark did things to Lex, let Lex do things to him that an innocent farmboy would never endure, would never put up with. He'd pictured making love to Clark in all sorts of different positions, having Clark take him on the pool table, in the gardens and on his wrecked Porsche, throwing away all Lex's fears that some thing was amiss within the burrows of their friendship. 

That the kid didn't trust him. 

Clark's hand tightened around his waist even as his head began to slip from Lex's chest. This was becoming too close to his dreams in which Clark teased him with soft smiles and a warm, moist mouth. He let out a small whimper as his groin hardened at the thought of Clark's fingers slowly unzipping his pants, lips covering him, taking him whole, a hot wet tongue licking him, satin heat surrounding him- He couldn't let this continue. 

"Clark," he said loudly, wincing at the strain in his voice, the cracked syllable. He was just thankful Clark was asleep. Otherwise the attraction in his voice would be excruciatingly obvious, even to his sweet little farmboy. 

He put his hand on Clark's head, meaning to tug at the boy's hair. Instead his traitorous fingers took the opportunity to delve into those glossy locks, long and feathery and soothing. He felt aroused and at peace in the same instant. He stroked Clark's head and sighed when Clark moaned into his abdomen. 

A second later Clark pulled his hand back from around Lex's waist. It brushed against the front of Lex's tented slacks, adding sweet pressure against his swollen appendage, soliciting release. 

"God, Clark," he hissed, not even realizing the words had escaped his mouth. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

Clark's heart was beating fast in his chest, his mind filled with discovery, his heart overjoyed. 

Lex was attracted to him. From the moment he put his head on Lex's shoulder he'd been aware of a change in Lex's demeanor, and now… Now here was the proof he longed for. 

**_~"God, Clark."~_**

Lex whispering his name like that, with longing and desire, had fueled a deep need within him, one he wasn't sure how to act upon. He decided to go on with his plan, achieve his goal before Lex came to his senses and pushed Clark off. Sure Lex wanted him, but that didn't change who the famous descendant was. Lex was still Lex. He wouldn't make an inappropriate move, he wouldn't touch Clark unless it was requited, and even then he wouldn't take advantage of an underage, sleeping farmboy. 

_Underage, Clark. Your underage. And even then, this is Kansas. It's not the most open-minded of states._

Clark wished he'd just had the courage to pull Lex into his lap, let him feel the affect that the older boy always had on him. Damn his age, he felt older. Damn the state, he could be careful. Damn what other people thought, he liked being true to himself. 

Maybe he should have just walked over and claimed those lips for his own, even if Lex refused to covet him and pursue an affair until Clark was of legal age. At least then they would have been aware of what was between them, and what was to come. And who said their couldn't be a few passionate, stolen moments? 

Now, however, was no time for 'wish I had's and 'wish I hadn't's. Now was time for action. He was where he was, doing the things he was for a reason.   
He pushed his head face first into Lex's crotch. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

Lex gasped and involuntarily clutched at Clark's hair, thrusting up just a little. He immediately felt flooded with a perverted kind of guilt. The pleasure of Clark in his lap was intense and it was driving him crazy. All he wanted was for Clark to wake up, unzip his pants and slip his hand in, pulling out Lex's erection and- 

Clark nuzzled him and Lex cried out, slapping a hand to his mouth. He was sure he was delusional because why would a sleepy Clark be giggling? 

_That's it, Luthor! Gain control of this situation, now! You don't want to lose a friend, so you'd better-_

"Lex," came the whisper that stilled him. 

_Oh, God!_ His mind reeled with the possibility that he woke Clark up with his outcry. He's going to see where he is and what I've got going on and he'll hate me. He'll hate me, and be disgusted by me and tell his dad to kill me and I won't care. I'll kill myself before he could say the first thing to his dad. This is a barn. I'll find some rope, throw it over a beam, and end the LuthorCorp fortune and future right here, right n- 

Clark nuzzled into him again and Lex bit his lip against the pleasure. This was too much. He pushed Clark up off his lap and scrambled off the couch. He walked quickly to the window, shoved his hand down his slacks and grabbed the base of his erection, squeezing tightly. 

"Lex?" The confused, groggy voice filled the air. "Are you okay?" 

"Sure." He winced at the crack in his voice, then heard the soft moan under the shifting weight of his farmboy friend. Clark was getting up, possibly to come over and console his friend for some unknown ailment. He had to get his body under control before Clark came to close or touched him. "My leg just got a horrible cramp. Like a dagger in the muscle, you know?" 

He winced. He didn't sound like himself at all. 

"Sure. Listen, I have to, uh, go the bathroom, Lex. You want something from the-" 

"Ice water," he said. Could he be any more nervous and obvious? "Thanks."   
  
"Big glass?" 

He just nodded. 

"'Kay. I'll be back in a few." 

Lex heard Clark walk down the steps, grateful to be left alone with time to subdue his sexual neediness, but still feeling lonely without his friend's company. 

He thought about skipping out, dropping a note on the couch and just leaving. Late night conference with his father. Late night meeting. Late night flight to Never-Neverland. Anything to get him away. 

He actually wrote the note. A 'real sorry Clark, but-' deal. It hurt to sign his name. Felt like it wasn't worth the ink to scratch on the paper. Felt like just it's presence was demeaning to his Clark. His savior. In so many more ways than one. 

_And I want to make him impure, filthy. I want to turn him into some little Metropolis pretty boy, desecrated and tainted. I contaminate him with just my presence._

Halfway down the steps of his loft he realized what it would be like in his mansion. Alone. In his car. Alone. Anywhere without Clark. Alone. He could be in a crowd. He would still feel lonely, left out. Given up on. And he wasn't. Not be Clark. 

_It's just another test_, he thought. _I can fight this attraction. It'll be hard but for Clark, nothing is too hard._

He headed back up the steps. When Clark finally did want to go to bed, he'd get in his car and drive. It was already ten past twelve. Clark would want to hang for maybe another hour. He could drive for more than five or six hours when the sun came up. He'd gone driving for much longer. He just didn't want to go home to that damned castle during the night. 

He sat down on the couch and kicked his book aside. Bending down, he picked up his own notebook and pen. He couldn't be near Clark because the farmboy was forbidden. He couldn't touch, couldn't taste, couldn't hold. He could never make intimate jokes about their sex life because no such thing existed. He would never be able to embrace a naked Clark in the middle of the afternoon, lying stretched out in his bed, or lie next to the river after skinny dipping, toasting in the warm sunlight. He would never be able to feel the heartbeat beneath his ear speed because of the physical pleasure he was causing. He would never have Clark. Period.   
  
Lex looked down at his paper and began to write.   
  
  
  
  
  


** TO BE CONTINUED...**   



	5. The In-Between

TITLE: Poetry in Motion (5/10)   
AUTHOR: Nymph Du Pave   
PAIRING: Lex Luthor/Clark Kent.   
RATING: PG-13   
DISCLAIMER: The WB, DC Comics, MillarGoughInk, Tolin, Robbins, and Davola [along with whomever else] own this wonderfully cute show. I am merely borrowing the characters to use in my own evil ways and will try to return them as mentally cognizant and stable as when I took them [with the exception of the incredibly handsome and elegant Michael Rosenbaum of whom I might never let go ;)], but I can't make any promises. The Muse controls these fingers.   
FEEDBACK: Oh! More, more, more! I've just completely finished this- which means now it gets run through and run through, over and over. I should be posting every other day :) Please do tell me what you like and dislike. But mostly what you like, ;)   
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: nymph_du_pave@hotmail.com   


* * *

** Poetry in Motion**   
** by Nymph Du Pave**

_Chapter Five: The In-Between_

It was the third time that Clark woke up and, instead of being closer to Lex this time, he was farther away. 

He sighed and rolled over, finding the other sleeping bag suspiciously empty and folded up in a nice little square. 

"Good morning to you too, Lex," he muttered sadly. He wasn't really surprised that the older boy had taken off, though. 

Clark had come back from the house with Lex's water and sleeping bags. Lex had looked at first oddly alarmed and then satisfied at the sight of the bags slung over Clark's shoulder. He'd been writing so Clark left him alone other than to inquire if he wanted to spend the night. Clark after all, had his own thoughts to escape pondering for a while. He didn't want to have to explain a raging hard-on to Lex. 

Lex had nodded at his question, hesitant but not at all displeased with the idea of staying the night. That made Clark smile, happy that, despite what had happened, Lex was still somewhat comfortable around him. 

They'd worked on their poems for another twenty minutes before Clark had honestly become too tired to write. Trying to ignore the thoughts that his brain kept shooting at him and being successful had managed to take a lot out of him. He'd slipped into the bag and into another pretend sleep, struggling for another forty minutes with introspection. On Lex. On Lex's strong and obviously willing body. Why hadn't Clark just kissed him? What would have happened if he just kept Lex's body pinned to the couch? Why couldn't he have just climbed to the cushion beside Lex, curled up- this time letting Lex see his wakeful state- against that cozy body and told Lex everything, starting with that day eleven, almost twelve years ago and ending with his desperate declaration of love and lust? 

He'd not been aware that he'd even gone to sleep, but he'd stirred a few hours later to find Lex nestled in the red sleeping bag a mere foot from his. His pale face had been so close, a mysterious Mona Lisa smile graced the porcelain doll complexion. Clark hadn't been able to resist. He'd reached out a tentative hand to graze the smooth skin and the memory of being on Lex's lap sudden rushed back. Lex's hardened shaft, so willing and inviting, moans and whispers issuing from Lex's lips. He'd nuzzled the tender, swollen part with a fire in his gut, wanting all the more to just reach out, unzip and… And… 

_And what?_

That was the reason he'd not kissed Lex. The more he wanted it to go further, the more he didn't. Lex's desire had been right there, not just under his nose, but pressed to it. And he hadn't acted. He wasn't sure how he felt about sex. He'd done things on his own, little things, things just to get himself over the edge, things to satisfy the teenaged hormones. But he'd stopped initiating sessions for fear of possibilities. Until recently, long brown hair and same-sorrel eyes, soft curves and pouty lips had embraced his fantasies. Then Lex came and showed him what a real, true fantasy was supposed to be. What fascination and lust truly was. He'd had a crush on Lana. Long and invigorating and sweet. It held the place in spring dreams and winter things. It was the kind of memory you looked back on with a rose-colored tint and you thought of how sweet the older days were before life became more complicated. Before things got too real. 

Before you started to live. 

Lex… He was something different. He brought something to the table that was blaze and hazard, but at the same time there was a gentle kind of comfort, not just innocuous but ingratiating. It was both fire and water, the volcanoes and the oceans. It could stop all life or began to breed it and this kind of love- he never doubted that love was what this was- was for all seasons, the kind of affection and devotion that lasted a lifetime of moments that would later be recalled with no tint necessary. The real thing would be beautiful enough to stand on it's own. 

Clark just had to find a way to get there. He had to rid himself of the fears, the stigmas and be willing to grasp what he and Lex deserved to have. Everything fit so well. Lex wanted to be needed in a way that didn't involve money or contacts or his father- Clark didn't give a shit about any of that. Clark didn't need Lex in anyway- but then he did. It was the good kind of need, the kind of need that had to do with hearts still beating and lungs still breathing. Clark needed Lex in the most human way possible. And he wanted him even more. 

He'd find away to tell Lex. He'd find away to get over his self-conscious problems and be there for Lex. After all, he didn't want Lex to get another offer from Lionel and this time take it. There was no way he'd allow Lex to leave without the older boy knowing just how he felt. 

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Taking in a deep breath of morning air, he identified the smells of pancakes and hot syrup, bacon and eggs. His mother was apparently making a large breakfast. Grinning, he got up and stretched. Thoughts of yummy food filled his head, something his tummy needed right then. He ran down the steps, out the barn and to the house at top speed, his stomach barely finishing a growl it started when he first smelled the sustenance. 

He opened the door, shutting it behind him. "Hey Mom!" he called out. 

"Clark!" she hissed from behind him. 

He spun around to find her taking off her apron and flashed her a grin. "Pancakes?" 

"Why'd you run from the barn?! Are you insane?" 

The kitchen door flew open and his father rushed in, panting. "Martha! Clark!" Jonathon saw them and looked around frantically. "Did he see-" 

"No, thank the Heavens. He's using the restroom." 

Clark's mouth fell open. _Lex didn't leave?! _"Oh, God! You mean-! Shit!" 

Martha hit him with her apron. "Clark! Language!" 

"Martha," started Jonathon, resting against the door. "I think in this situation he's got more than enough reason to-" 

"I'm so sorry," he interrupted, realizing he almost exposed himself and his family. Oddly enough he didn't feel panic at the idea of Lex knowing about him, just at his parents knowing that Lex knew. "I had no idea that Lex was still here." 

"What did you think?" Clark turned to find Lex entering the kitchen. "I'd just run out on you?" 

"Well, after last night, yeah." 

Lex stiffened. Clark almost slapped himself on the forehead, seeing the muted panic in the rich boy's eyes and the sudden worried interest in his parents'. 

_Shit! Me and my big mouth!_

Jonathon looked at Lex, wary. "What happened last night?" 

"Yes, Clark," asked Lex coolly, still very much uneasy to Clark's trained eyes. "What happened?" 

Clark shrugged putting on his most carefree manor and walked passed his mother to wash his hands. "Lex was really tired. We both were. I thought he'd just conked out on the couch then woke up and gone home." 

"I used the sleeping bag." He almost sounded hurt. "I just woke up really early and couldn't get back to sleep." 

"Yes," Martha threw in. "Lex helped with the breakfast this morning." 

Clark's father laughed. "So anything burnt?" 

Lex smiled. "I'm actually a fairly good cook. I learned from my mother." 

Jonathon and Martha both nodded. Clark had told them about Lex's mother once in an effort to try and shed some light for Jonathon. It had almost worked. Martha smiled softly at him and placed the pancakes on the table. "I'm sure she was very proud of you, Lex." 

Lex looked to Clark. "Overly so." 

Clark blushed amazed, again at the depth with which Lex let him in, and pulled out a chair for Lex before choosing the one between Lex and his father for himself. He was always amazed by the range of expressions that Lex was capable of. He could tell by the last one that Lex knew Clark had divulged information about the boy's mother. 

Lex sat down next to him and the same time the telephone rang in the next room. His father started for it. 

"I've got it, Jon," Clark's mother scolded. "Go get cleaned up." 

She excused herself and Lex leaned over to whisper to Clark. "It's okay, you know." 

Clark faced him. "What?" 

"That you told them." 

He looked down again, embarassed. 

"Clark, it's okay." Lex stroked his shoulder. "Really. It's not exactly a secret. Her death was on every television set and in every newspaper in the country. And many internationally." He looked up at Lex, unbelieving. He hadn't actually thought about it, but it did make sense. The Luthor family was rich and famous, worldwide industrial celebrities and capitalist geniuses. When one died, everyone was going to know. 

Still… If Clark's mother ever died… He knew he couldn't handle that kind of publicity. Being reminded so many times everywhere you turn. And Lex had been so young. How long had the worldwide broadcast lasted? "I'm so sorry." 

The emotion and genuine sorrow in his voice obviously stunned Lex and Clark watched the tears spring into his eyes. "It's fine, Clark." 

Lex began to turn away, but Clark reached out. His fingers caught Lex's chin and forced the older boy to look at him, then dropped back into his lap. Lex's gaze was fierce and shiny and Clark really had no clue what he was doing. 

"You're my best friend, Lex. I hate seeing you in any pain." He moved closer until their faces were only a few inches away. 

"Clark, you-" 

" I love you, Lex." 

Lex's eye grew wide. "You mean-" 

"Lex!" Martha's voice, naturally very calm and reserved, was loud and a bit on the shrill side. "The telephone's for you! I think there's been some emergency, but I can't tell. I don't understand Italian at all." 

+_+_+_+_+ 

**_~"You're my best friend, Lex."~_**

"Four minutes, sir." 

Lex nodded to the pilot. "Thanks." He watched as the mansion became visible on the horizon. The problem in Italy, a bomb threat to the LuthorCorp European Headquarters, had left him uneasy and a little unnerved. 

He checked his watch. 

_Oooh. Three minutes and fifty-three seconds. Big difference._

He stretched, hearing and feeling pops in three different sections of his back. He felt miserable and was actually welcoming the bed he called his own in his father's domineering castle. 

He shuddered. The man was going to be there. 

**_~"I hate seeing you in any pain."~_**

_Then you'd hate to see me the past twenty hours, and certainly the next two._

His phone rang again and he looked at the ID, not at all surprised when Clark's number came up on the second ring. He pocketed the phone. 

"The Kents again?" 

"Yes, Dad." He watched as his father flipped through reports, the loud, harsh wind outside not a bother. 

"It's four AM, son. They want something." 

"Yes, you're right," he conceded. "They do." _To make sure I'm alright._

His father looked up at him, pursing his lips. With the reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose and his gaunt, bony face he looked like an old woman, an old maid. Lonely, bitter, spiteful. Unfulfilled. No matter how much Lex despised his father, he still caught himself worrying for the man. Being that rancorous, that savage, trusting no one, always looking for an ulterior motive… It took a lot out of the elder Luthor. 

"Don't placate me, Lex." 

Lex checked his watch. Three minutes and nine seconds. 

He knew it was no use to argue with Lionel. He'd learned over the years that his father had been right every time Lex thought he'd made a friend. But even a genius makes mistakes, and he'd be damned if Clark would ever be willing to use him. 

**_~"I love you, Lex."~_**

_ That's the problem._

Even though the words brought pain to his chest, his heart began to beat wildly out of happiness. Clark loved him. Not in the same way, but it was still there. A best friend's love, something that Lex had never been given in his life, something he'd deserved as a child but never received. Something he most definitely did not deserve now. The way he looked at Clark. The way he thought and dreamt about Clark… 

There were five phone messages on his voicemail. Clark every time. Wanting to know how he was. If he was okay. If he wanted to come over again. Not to worry about the time, to just come up to the loft whenever. Even if Clark was asleep, the boy wanted him to wake him up. He'd been there. Waiting. Wanting to hang and talk and to know if Lex was still going to the poetry thing at the Talon. 

There was a beep indicating another voicemail. 

His father sighed and put his papers in his lap. He ripped his glasses off his face. "They've called every hour for the last sixteen hours, Alexander. They want something from you." 

Lex opened his mouth to say something, what he wasn't sure, when he was silenced by his father's next reply. 

"They're manipulating you. They're liars, Lex, and not like you and me. Not for profit. Not for business purposes." He sighed, and Lex could see something approaching genuine world-weariness. "I don't know why they do it, but if you should distrust anyone, it's Jonathon Kent and his family." 

Lex smirked to hide his anger and, more importantly, his curiosity. Did this have anything to do with Jonathon Kent's revealation the other night in the loft? What had come between the two of them? What was the favor that his father had performed?   
"The most honest people I know," he said. "-and I should distrust them?" His voice was strangely flat, indifferent. The best teachings of his father were now coming in handy. 

"Lex, I wou-" 

"How can _you_, of _all_ people, dare speak like that? You're the most liberal prevaricator I know of." 

"This is different." 

"Different then what? Then every other lie you've ever told me?" He felt the helicopter land and he unbuckled his seatbelt. "Get off yourself, Lionel. All five Hardwicks put together have been more honest their entire lives than you have the capability to be for four minutes." 

Somebody, a hand, a helper, a generic face, opened the helicopter door from the outside and Lex didn't hesitate. He jumped out of the bird and to the ground. He whipped out his cell phone and hit speed dial 1, calling the number that had replaced his father's the instant Lex had received it. 

"Alexander! This conversation is not settled." 

"Hello? Lex?" 

He smiled, his stomach untying and relaxing to an extent he'd not known it had tensed. The voice was soothing, deep and perfect. Sometimes he'd give anything for a taste, a touch of such perfection in his life. Right now, all he wanted was a reminder that it was there. 

"Clark, hey. I just got back." 

"Are you okay? I left you a few messages." 

"And called quite a few times." 

"Oh, yeah." Lex smiled. He could practically hear his friend's blush. "About that. Uh, I'm really-" 

"Don't be." Lex felt his throat constrict as his mind quickly recounted his father's actions concerning Level 3 and his willingness to betray his only son when said son was at his peek. "It's nice to know that someone cares… Thanks, Clark." 

"Anytime, Lex." 

Lex heard his father quickly approaching and decided he didn't want Clark to hear whatever Lionel had to say. 

"I've got-" 

"You said there was an emergency situation in Italy and I got worried. I mean, you never answered and all. Are you really okay?" 

Despite his father's proximity, he allowed his grin to grow. "Yes, I'm fine. I wasn't actually there for that long. It was mostly just travel time. A waste really." 

"Good, I-" 

"Lex!" 

Lionel's voice was really getting on his nerves. There was a silence on the other end of the phone. 

"Clark, I-" 

"Just call me back when you can. Are you coming over?" 

"I can't." 

Another silence, this one weighted on both ends with disapointment. "Are you going to be at the Talon tomorrow?" 

He stiffened. The Talon, poetry, and Clark. It started at seven. He could cite work, his father, lack of sleep… He could use any excuse right now and Clark would forgive him his lack of appearance. Clark would stick up for him to Lana. But more importantly, Clark would _believe_ him and his excuse. And that simple faith made all the difference in the world to Lex. 

"Absolutely, Clark. Wouldn't miss it for the world."   
  
  
  
  
  


** TO BE CONTINUED...**   
  



	6. The Day

TITLE: Poetry in Motion (6/10)   
AUTHOR: Nymph Du Pave   
PAIRING: Lex Luthor/Clark Kent.   
RATING: PG-13   
DISCLAIMER: The WB, DC Comics, MillarGoughInk, Tolin, Robbins, and Davola [along with whomever else] own this wonderfully cute show. I am merely borrowing the characters to use in my own evil ways and will try to return them as mentally cognizant and stable as when I took them [with the exception of the incredibly handsome and elegant Michael Rosenbaum of whom I might never let go ;)], but I can't make any promises. The Muse controls these fingers.   
FEEDBACK: Posting two chapters now a day sooner than I thought. I'm so giddy about this story and I don't know why! You guys are so great! Please don't stop reviewing!!!   
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: nymph_du_pave@hotmail.com   


* * *

** Poetry in Motion**   
** by Nymph Du Pave**

_Chapter Six: The Day_

"I'm still not done. I can't seem to grasp the ending here." 

"You're kidding?" 

"No. When did you finish yours?" 

"Like, five minutes after I started." 

"Oh, God, Pete. Tell me you're joking." 

"Nope." 

Chloe rolled her eyes at Clark. "That's it. I'm officially out of this poetry thing." 

Clark mockingly rolled his eyes back at his short, blonde friend. "You've been saying that ever since I told you I signed you up for this." 

"Those exact words, as a matter of fact," Pete chimed in. "'That's it! I'm officially out-" 

Chloe ignored him and looked up at Clark. "And by the way, I never did thank you for doing such a noble and selfless thing, Mr. Kent." 

"Uh-oh," muttered Pete. He grinned up at Clark and Clark instantly realized that his poor friend had been listening to Chloe rant since he informed them of their unwitting obligation. 

"I mean it wasn't enough that you sign Lex up without asking. You, the ever-thoughtful farmboy, had to make sure your billionaire buddy isn't alone in his public debasing. So you bring along two more of your friends, ex-friends depending on how embarrassing this is for us, for the humiliation round of your twisted little mind game." 

Clark laughed. The thought of him being able to pull a mind game over Chloe Sullivan, or even Lex for that matter, was humorous to say the least. She almost hadn't agreed to come. The only reason she had was his shameless use of 'the Clark Kent Basset Hound eyes'. It seemed to have an amazing effect on Chloe and his mother. He'd even been thinking about trying it out on Lex, but the boy never gave him the opportunity. He always either went along with anything Clark wanted to do, or came up with an even better idea. 

Chloe pulled out a chair at a small, felt-covered table near the stage. "You have a sick, morbid, not to mention sadistic soul inside that innocent farmboy demeanor, Kent. I still can't believe you didn't ask. I mean two days warning to work on this?" 

Pete dropped into a seat on the other side of the table, his back facing the stage. "Yeah, well. Anything for Lana Lang, right?" 

Clark had been waiting for this but hoping it wouldn't come. He gave Pete a little half-smile and dropped his eyes, blushing. He hated lying to Pete, hated not letting his best-friend-since-forever know that he was no longer interested in what seemed like a life-long crush. It was just that he was sure Pete would never understand. Pete, the man of a million dates and the ever varying female interest. There was no stopping Pete's flow of testosterone, and Clark had no intention of doing so. He just wished he could be more confident that 'best friends forever, no matter what' actually meant 'no matter what'. 

Clark felt Chloe's gaze on his down-turned face and knew what she was thinking, the message she was trying to telepathically send him. Something along the lines of 'you can't keep lying to him; you'll have to tell him eventually; the sooner the better'. He knew all that. He just didn't feel it in his bones. Not yet. But he'd tell Pete. Eventually. 

"What?" Pete asked, looking first to Chloe then to Clark. "Am I missing something here?" 

Chloe smiled and looked at Pete as if he were missing half a brain. "Like what? Other than the cappuccinos. Clark, didn't you say we got free drinks and eats for being in this thing?" 

Pete rubbed his hands together. "That's what I'm talkin' 'bout!" 

Clark threw Chloe a gracious 'I owe you' look for covering for him, then turned to Pete, clearing his throat. "You know, Pete, there's a limit on the amount of freebees." 

"So? A freebee's a freebee." 

"Yeah, Clark," Chloe threw in. "What are you? Crazy? This is America. The free meal, free drink, free car, free candy… It's all part of us as Americans, as country-men. We expect to be given things like free samples, or low-cost extras. The illusory bargain. The free twenty dollar heart-monitor that comes with the three-thousand dollar treadmill. That little piece of plastic and silicon makes it money well spent, instead of that person buying just the monitor and running outdoors. A free crappy movie that did well in theatres but sucked deformed cow milk comes with the DVD player that you just bought." 

Pete made a face. "Tell me about it. 'Batman and Robin'. Argh." 

Clark smiled. "One-thousand free hours from AOL that you couldn't possibly use in the time they give you. Not if you wanted to eat and sleep, anyway." 

Chloe nodded. "It's what we're all about. That's all we want. We're a country of moochers." 

"Well," said a silken voice from behind Clark. "That seems a little cynical." 

+_+_+_+_+ 

Clark was so handsome sitting there in his red sweater and loose blue jeans. Lex knew he wasn't mistaken when he noted enthusiasm and friendly content in Clark's eyes. It had taken awhile, but he'd finally convinced himself that Clark was genuinely happy to see him most, if not all, of the time. 

"And you're complaining?" 

Lex smiled at the perky, school reporter. "Not at all, Miss Sullivan. May I?" Chloe and Clark nodded. Pete sniffed and looked away, finding the ferns at the back of the Talon more interesting. 

Lex sighed. It was going to take a lot to win over Peter Ross, but he intended to eventually take hold. He pulled the fourth chair out, sitting between Clark and Chloe, putting him directly in front of Pete. He looked to Chloe. "You've misconstrued my comment. As a matter of fact, I find intellectual cynicism a rare and fascinating occurrence in one so young." 

Pete muttered something unintelligible and stood. "I'll see about our free drinks." 

Chloe continued the conversation as if she hadn't heard Pete. "I refuse to believe you were Mr. Optimistic at my age." 

"Anything but. And I'm not saying you're anything like I was at your age. You're far less jaded, far less infuriated. You have your rage but your rage is one for the article. The truth." 

"Truth, justice and the American way?" 

"Weren't you just speaking of the yank fashion?" he asked, Deciding to covet her sarcastic tone instead of brushing it aside. "Freebees and justice for all?" 

She grinned and Lex marked a score one for himself. "Possibly." 

"Truth seems to be what motivates you. I admire your strength and perseverance greatly, Miss Sullivan." 

Her left eyebrow quirked up. "Really?" 

"Yes." 

She looked pointedly towards an oblivious Clark- watching Pete with a worried expression- then back to him. "The truth about everything?" 

His gut stirred. There were things he doubted about Clark, yes, of course. He knew he'd hit the boy. He'd unfortunately been in enough automobile accidents to know the feel of a human body crunching into metal. But for someone else to share his doubts about the boy's normalcy, much less one of Kent's other best friends- 

She grinned. "The truth about your unparalleled interest in a certain homestead commodity. Member of the elite ultra-rural kibbutz?" 

Lex flushed and wished he had some sort of drink to hide it and clear his suddenly parched throat. So that was the 'truth' she had been talking about. He didn't have to wonder how she knew. One too many heated glances- and many of them directed at more than just his face- gave way to the emotions inside. 

_I might as well have worn an 'I Love Clark Kent' shirt in front of her._

There was no use denying it and since Clark seemed to be paying attention to Pete's quest for free food, Lex breathed in and out, sitting back comfortably. "Chloe-vision sees all then." 

She looked surprised to hear his admission, but had the grace to rid the expression off her face seconds later. "I'd hoped so." 

He couldn't for the life of him gather just what she meant by that. Given a few minutes, he might have figured it out, but it was time he didn't have. 

"Hello, everyone!" Lana spoke loudly from on the stage, mere feet from him. "And welcome to the tenth weekly Poetry night at the Talon!"   
  
  
  
  
  


**TO BE CONTINUED...**   



	7. The First

TITLE: Poetry in Motion (7/10)   
AUTHOR: Nymph Du Pave   
PAIRING: Lex Luthor/Clark Kent.   
RATING: PG-13   
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: nymph_du_pave@hotmail.com   


* * *

** Poetry in Motion**   
** by Nymph Du Pave**

_Chapter Seven: The First_

"And, dude   
I did say,   
'You are my familia.   
My corrosion in the same manner'.   
I told him that   
and he clapped.   
He knew just what   
I said." 

Clark could see that Lex was trying not to laugh. Trying really, _really _hard. Chloe _and _Lex. Clark knew one of them, if not both, was going to crack before the end of the poem. He made and internal bet that it was going to be Chloe. 

"'I don't want yourself   
your approval doth unimportant   
France is gone   
and the world can burn   
you're dead in my life   
don't call my cell phone'" 

Lex, despite his many years of classical teachings in Literature and Poetry and therefore a huge amount of exposure to _good _and _great_ poetry, could control his behavior better than Chloe. He was more reserved, more 'let me melt into the background' than Chloe. Chloe was 'let me be seen as well as heard, but _especially_ heard'. 

"I told him this   
and he clapped.   
He said he knew   
just what I meant." 

She was definitely going to crack first. 

"But he can't   
live my life   
I don't want him there.   
Don't need that strife." 

And that was it. The typical life/strife rhyme was enough to have her shield her face from the stage and cover her outbreak of laughter with a mouthful of croissant. Lex was not so lucky. 

"Let me tell him this," 

At Chloe's laughter, he let out a loud cough and ducked under the table, unable to keep from chortling. 

"-and see him clap." 

The poet stepped back from the mike and the whole football team stood up from their table, clapping and hurrahing for their bright-eyed comrade. 

"You'd think he just delivered a 'Farewell to Arms'," whispered Lex as Paul Killborne walked off the stage to be pulled victoriously into his group. Lex and Chloe had managed to gather their mirth and move past it faster than Clark would have given them credit for. 

"Apparently all football players have a pretty tough home-life dealt to them." 

Lex tisked. "What an awful strife." 

They snickered for a moment until Lana walked back up onto the stage. Clark watched as a shared distaste rang out in their eyes. He would never understand just what it was they disliked about Lana. 

"Thank you, Paul, for your contribution to tonight's Original Poetry Segment." 

"She'll no doubt be smacking Whitney for talking Paul into attending," whispered Chloe over the applause. Lex looked too shocked to respond. 

"What is it, Lex?" Clark asked. 

The boy's eyes focused on his. "Segment. Tonight's Original Poetry- _Segment_?" 

"Yes." 

"You mean there's another segment? As in not the Original Poetry Segment?" 

Clark swallowed and flushed with guilt. He'd never really thought that Lex would want to read someone else's words in front of a crowd. "Uh, yeah, Lex. The other segment is for classic and favorite poems, but I sort of didn't sign us up for that." 

Lex sat back in his chair. "So I see." 

_Is he mad at me?_ Clark wondered. He didn't look mad, just... Amused. 

The applause died down and Lana looked at her list. "Next we have," she grinned. "Peter Ross." 

Applause abounded and once again Clark was surprised by Pete's under-spoken popularity. He'd always miscalculated the number of people- particularly girls- that had fallen for Pete's unmistakable, easy-going charisma.   
  
Pete stood up, adjusting himself vainly for the crowd, holding his hands up and bowing. "Thank you, thank you, everyone. Really- oh, well. Okay. More applause!" Most of the group laughed and Pete made his way up the steps. 

Lana climbed down from the stage and took Pete's seat. She looked at the three of them. "I've never had such a crowd here. I wonder what drew them in."   
  
"Jocks on parade?" Lex joked. 

Chloe shook her head. "More like the Billionaire Man-March." 

Lex and Clark took a second to look at the group. Clark was surprised to see not only many adults and farmers in the crowd, but many of them looking at Lex. Most had the decency to turn when Lex looked back at them. 

"I'll be damned," whispered Lex in shock and not a little dismay. 

"You're center-stage no matter where you go." Chloe grinned. "Center stage no matter who you're with." 

Clark kicked her discreetly under the table, knowing she was hinting at Clark's affection towards him and got a strange look from Lex. "Chloe, don't be rude," he tried to cover, but Lex's look only grew more puzzled and he looked to Chloe. Luckily, Chloe had decided she liked having Clark's friendship and happened to be looking up to Pete expectantly. 

"Okay, okay," laughed Pete. "Here goes." 

Clark felt horrendous. 

"Now I don't write a lot of poetry, so, sorry girls, this isn't Shakespeare." 

Not only had he dragged Lex into this, but somehow word had gotten around their little hamlet that Lex was performing. The people parked and ready probably knew original works were at hand and Clark had no doubt that there were a few journalists in the crowd. Now Lex couldn't back out without looking like a complete ass. Clark just hoped that he hadn't written anything too personal. 

"But I feel that's it's my own little presentation of the 'Deeper Side of Peter Ross'." Clark barely heard the catcalls and whistles and humorous shouts about getting on with it. He was too busy wondering just how one would go about faking a stroke. "Yeah, yeah. Fine." 

He had to do so without worrying his friends or having anyone call 911, not to mention he had to get Lex and _only _Lex to 'take him to the hospital'. That was the only way to escape, he was sure. 

"Here goes." 

Clark looked up to Pete and lost the idea of helping Lex out. He would just try and find a way to apologize a million times. Maybe he could learn magic and give Lex his hair back. 

"Ahem: 

Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury,   
I hope you're in no freakin' hurry.   
There's much to decide,   
And it all comes to ride,   
on the judgement you pass in this flurry." 

Clark laughed; he really couldn't help it. He hadn't expected Pete's poem to be in that specific form. It had such a strong beat and it really fit his friend. 

"Now there's a fair maiden I wish to seek.   
Sun is her hair and her smile all week.   
There's much to say here,   
When she's oh, so damn near,   
but her presence makes me timid and meek." 

Pete grinned at Clark and Chloe as the teens in the crowd shouted in disbelief at his words. It was clear that no one here could picture Pete as anything but his usual overconfident self. 

"Now doth I tell you this painful story?   
Obscure in life, feeling so gory   
Pass your helpful votes,   
Then we'll see if my notes,   
make it near such discernable glory." 

Clark thought to himself while Pete's congregation made it's case. The vote was clearly a 'yes' anyway. 

There were so many blonde girls he and Pete knew, but the only one that made either of them timid or meek was the only one that could put them in their places. The only one with a smile like sunshine… 

Clark looked up at Pete with shock on his face. _No…_

Even Lana didn't have a smile as brilliant or fun as Chloe's. 

Pete looked down in time to catch Clark's look of understanding and suddenly grew somber. The crowd seemed to catch the mood and quieted quickly. 

"This young lady's nothing if not brilliant,   
And no this ain't me, the sycophant.   
I'll just tell the facts,   
play it up to the max,   
Fallen player, no longer management." 

Clark looked to Chloe. She looked like she was trying figure out the poem, but he could tell that it wasn't hitting home. He looked to his right. Lex knew. He was watching Chloe carefully. 

"My friends, I think I'm in love with her, too." 

The crowd gave up a collective 'awwww'. 

"This might be the only chance that you   
while in my lit fame   
have to see me proclaim   
my heart's love and probably it's adieu." 

The crowd erupted and Clark watched Chloe smile, most likely mystified that Pete was getting such a reaction. The boy took a deep breath and he looked at Chloe, suddenly utterly serious. 

"My soul moves and breathes with a heated flow   
And you're blind for I hide this love so,   
I'll push through the mire   
and fight for your desire,   
Would you be my heart's vision, please, Chlo?" 

She gasped along with what must have been everyone in the Talon. Clark saw how weak Pete's smile was, how it trembled _almost_ imperceptibly. 

_Please, Chloe_, he begged. _Don't break his heart!_   
  
  
  
  
  
  
****

** TO BE CONTINUED...**


	8. The Rest

TITLE: Poetry in Motion (8/10)   
AUTHOR: Nymph Du Pave   
PAIRING: Lex Luthor/Clark Kent.   
RATING: PG-13   
DISCLAIMER: The WB, DC Comics, MillarGoughInk, Tolin, Robbins, and Davola [along with whomever else] own this wonderfully cute show. I am merely borrowing the characters to use in my own evil ways and will try to return them as mentally cognizant and stable as when I took them [with the exception of the incredibly handsome and elegant Michael Rosenbaum of whom I might never let go ;)], but I can't make any promises. The Muse controls these fingers.   
FEEDBACK: Okay, I was going to post one today and two tomorrow, but I don't wanna. I wanna post it all today. So here are the last three chapters. PLEASE tell me what you think [if you want on each one, lol] :)   
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: nymph_du_pave@hotmail.com   


* * *

** Poetry in Motion**   
** by Nymph Du Pave**

_Chapter Eight: The Rest_

Lex crossed his arms. Now that's how you do it, he thought. Romantic, funny, and completely honest. 

Pete laughed in the silence of the Talon, but Lex felt the sound's absence of mirth. He was sure that everyone in the eatery could. 

"Come on, Chloe," Pete started with a smile. "Don't leave me hanging, here. I was just kidding when I said it only took me five minutes." 

She broke out in a grin and Lex felt himself relax. He saw Clark beside him release a deep breath, unmistakably relieved. 

"I knew you lied." She stood and climbed the stairs to the stage. "I had no idea, Pete." Her grin grew wider. "You really like my smile?" 

He looked at her and Lex realized he'd never seen Pete so serious, even with the gun. 

Of course there's no botanical fever coursing through his system, so he doesn't have that crazed, ill glow about him. 

"I love it, Chloe," he said, the softness of his voice carried by the Talon's stage mike. "I always have." 

Chloe's smiled faltered and her eyes shown in the overhead lights. "Oh, Pete. Why didn't you ever say anything?" 

Lex watched Pete and Clark look at each other, then Clark look down, blushing. Pete smiled weakly at Chloe. "Your attention's been elsewhere." 

"Kiss him!!" Two girls called out and giggles sparsely lit the room. 

The dramatic spell over Chloe and Pete was broken, and she smiled again. "My pleasure." 

"Wha-" Pete's reply was cut short by Chloe's lips, pressing to his in a short but sweet and not-so-chaste kiss." 

Everyone in the room exploded in applause and Lex looked warily over to his best friend. Instead of finding Clark somewhat shocked and upset to see that the girl he was currently trying to court was kissing another guy, he stood to give the couple a standing ovation. 

"Way to go, Pete!" 

Lex stood next to Clark and clapped, utterly confused. 

_I thought- But he was- I could have sworn…_

He couldn't even put his own thoughts together. 

Once Pete and Chloe walked off the stage everyone in the Talon sat and started to calm down. 

Lex watched as Lana stood and Chloe and Pete sat, pulling each other's chairs together. They sat talking seriously between themselves. Clark sat with a wide grin on his face watching his two best friends. 

"Clark," Lex whispered, ducking closer. "Not that I doubt your sincerity, but, well, weren't you kind of- after Chloe." 

Lex didn't miss the blush that threatened to take over his best friend's face, nor did his attentions overshoot the sagacious and stealthy look Chloe shot their way. She'd heard his whisper apparently. 

"No, Lex. She kinda realized I had a thing for someone else. The kind of thing that was more than just a crush or even simple love." 

His heart dropped into his stomach and he sat back sharply into his seat. Now he didn't give a damn about having good cause to hate Lana. He'd take his jealousy to the bank. 

"More than simple love, huh? How wonderful for you, Clark." He hated it that he couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice. 

He caught Chloe's smirk and raised eyebrow and wondered what the hell she thought she knew that he didn't. 

+_+_+_+_+ 

"Our next creative poet is Clark Kent!" 

Lana and his table gave him an extra cheerful welcome to the stage- even Lex who had been strangely quiet and brooding through everyone else's poems. Nell's hideous poem about flowers. Chloe's really witty composition about the school lunch meats and missing meteor-infected people- Clark was sure Lana was not happy about the sudden turn in people's appetites and therefore their likeliness to avoid the meats on the Talon's menu. He'd even skipped out on the comments about Lana's 'Snow and Death' deal and Whitney's surprisingly adept and imaginative work on the city of Metropolis. 

Clark stood and looked at his three best friends. Chloe gave him a little wink, Lex gave him a full on smile and Pete a wide grin and a huge thumbs up. Clark felt guilty about not letting Pete into his world but he was afraid, deathly afraid that Pete and he would not preserve the same exact friendship they had now. As long as Pete didn't know about his feelings for Lex- feelings he was, after last night, almost completely sure were requited- than their friendship could retain. 

Now, however, was not the time to be thinking of his dishonesty with Pete. He flushed at all the attention he was getting from the Talon's patrons and looked to the floor, not missing Lex's wide grin at his self-consciousness. 

He stopped in front of the mike and looked to the audience. His stomach dropped, his hair felt strangely weighted and there was a slight buzz in the air. This was it. His poem. His ode to- His ode to- well, Lex. 

Lex was attracted to him and they were best friends so Clark had reason to believe that it was more than sexual. Whether or not Lex was in love with him was yet to be seen, but… But Lex was an extremely intelligent man. He would hear the poem and know. 

Clark's heart sped up to a ridiculous speed. Yes, Lex would know how he felt. Would know there was something to Clark that held Lex on a pedestal of admiration and fondness. 

Clark didn't need paper. He cleared his throat and began. 

"This is a poem written for the one I truly love."   
  
  
  
  
  
  



	9. The End

TITLE: Poetry in Motion (9/10)   
AUTHOR: Nymph Du Pave   
PAIRING: Lex Luthor/Clark Kent.   
RATING: PG-13   
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: nymph_du_pave@hotmail.com   


* * *

** Poetry in Motion**   
** by Nymph Du Pave**

_Chapter Nine: The End_

The 'aaaws' from the crowd rang out as Lex shifted uncomfortably in his seat and looked over to Lana, sitting with Whitney and Nell. How was this going to go over? Would she blush in embarrassment and hide behind her boyfriend who nullified the friendship between him and Clark in order to protect his girlfriend's honor? Or would she be sensible and run to Clark, wrap her arms and legs around him and never let him see the light of another human's love? 

If Clark Kent wrote a poem for me, he thought, but couldn't find words to finish the concept. That kind of possibility was an abstraction from normal life, some fantastic reverie to sing himself to sleep with. It had no place in reality where the words of the real could hurt and cut and scar so deeply. He was normally out of place in real life, but today and every minute since Clark let Lex massage him, since he fell asleep on his shoulder, pushed his face invitingly into Lex's lap… Ever since he cared enough to tell Lex that a farmboy's love and affection, if not adulation and passion, was directed towards him… Him, a spoiled little brat who'd spent so much time in business meetings, stoned or in jail that he'd forgotten what a friendly face looked like until the angel had pulled him from his own personal Nile. 

And all he wanted was for that angel to fall. 

Clark grinned and his cherry-cheek tint turned a deeper hue. "It's a little long, and there's no real beat." 

"Did you even hear mine?" called Nell cheerfully from the corner. "I wrote about the flower shop for crying out loud." Everyone laughed. "You don't need to explain anything." 

Clark gave Nell a warm smile. He'd have to remember to get her some chocolates. Godiva, her favorites. 

He turned back to the microphone wondering, when he read it out loud, if he'd have the guts to meet Lex's eyes and let the older boy know just who this was for. 

"Okay. Clichéd title. Uh, 'My Fallen Angel'." 

He saw Lex frown and felt the butterflies break loose from their cocoons. The word 'fallen' couldn't in anyway be related to Lana and he even managed to catch surprised looks from most everyone else in the Talon. Surprised or confused because everyone in high school- thanks to Whitney's over-protectiveness- knew that Clark loved Lana and that Lana was as pure and sweet and sugary as they came. 

_ So far, so good_. Though he had not even considered the crowd when he write this, he had hoped when he titled it that the first rousing of 'wait a minute, this doesn't really fit lil' mis Lang' would begin stirring in Lex's brain straight from the beginning. 

And it very obviously had. 

"Alrighty then." He smiled, felt another blush coming on and looked down at his feet. Since the last person to use the mike was Lana, it was right under his mouth. 

"You are the one," he started softly.   
"that the angels let go.   
Their tentative jealousy,   
of the unconfined beauty,   
you walked and breathed,   
could not be allowed." 

He would have to look at Lex soon. 

"It wrecked their heavens,   
and turned them inside out.   
Your perfection was the flaw,   
too many angels fell for.   
They could live without you,   
but not without their sin." 

He looked up into the crowd to gain courage, saw surprised faces. It wasn't Whitman, but it was his little masterpiece and it looked like a few people were enjoying it. 

"So to purge themselves," he began, the expressions of others listening giving him courage.   
"of this too mortal emotion,   
they sent you here,   
and ravaged your soul.   
Demolished your ability   
to love and care and see." 

He looked at Chloe and Pete. There was a grin on Chloe's face… and a frown on Pete's. He was very worried about this next verse and, only when writing it, had he realized that, simplified, Lana and Lex's earlier lives were very much the same. 

"To give themselves peace   
they shattered your youth,   
ripped away those you loved.   
Scarlet down tonsured, sheared,   
and yet, even, with this unadorned mien   
they could not pilfer your splendor." 

He looked at Lana and Whitney and Nell. Whitney knew Clark would not ruin the friendship they had established, knew this was not about Lana so the quietly surprised shock registering on his face, instead of hate or anger, made sense. Nell looked contemplative. She always looked contemplative. Lana looked like she was trying to figure the mystery out. 

"Your elegance retained,   
and your heart remained,   
hidden in the depths,   
of a cavern few could see." 

He paused and finally had the guts to look at Lex. The expression was one of pure misery and self-worthlessness, which made everything fit. His heart, his poem, his love. And the rest of his current verse and his next verse. 

"But I know you're there," he said softer than he'd meant.   
"I know you feel me." 

Lex looked away, blushing and fidgeting with a napkin under the table. Clark only became more ardent in his need for Lex to understand. 

"You think I don't see,   
your grandeur inside,   
the sleek want for love,   
the nights you have cried.   
My arms are here for you,   
and your soul is the key." 

He kept his eyes on Lex but the boy refused to look up. The next verse could easily be confused for Lana's life. 

_ If only he'd look at me._

"The sad fame you pull behind you,   
mars the mirrors that you view.   
Your pale skin is flawless,   
never showing the cuts,   
old and pale, new and harsh,   
that disfigure the face of your soul." 

Lex rubbed his forehead and shifted left and right in his chair. Something was wrong. This was not how it was supposed to go. What was wrong with Lex. Was the poem not distinctive enough? 

"Please extend your hand," he continued, his voice wobbly, his heart on edge.   
"with its crimson tips.   
For of you I'm not afraid.   
You're a golden halo,   
around my life." 

He swallowed. 

"It's time you showed me your love." 

This was where things in the poem became even less poetry and more emotion. He was nervous because when he wrote it was for the words not the rhyme. He'd never liked free-form poetry before he'd done this, but now he respected the hell out of it. 

"Your pain glows in every cavern,   
and your soul bleeds to the ground.   
Does heaven have the power,   
to wash away an angel's blood?   
Even one it threw out because it   
defied original perfection?" 

Lex was still not looking at him, and so he looked to his feet realizing that he might not be able to deliver his love through the poem after all. His chicken-shit way out had failed. He might actually have to tell Lex. 

"Let me do what I can, love," he said slowly, almost quietly.   
"to take away your wounds." 

His eyes watered up a bit because the next part had taken a part of him deeper then all of the rest. It was cliched, but there was new meaning in it for him. 

"You make me feel human each day.   
A thing I cannot ever be.   
You let me feel like I'm the same as you.   
But me show you what I truly am." 

"I open up the front doors now,   
and your sad face plunders my reserve.   
Please let me make you happy,   
and give you what you deserve.   
I want to give love to you and,   
remove the life you've had." 

He breathed in as Lex reached for his beeper, used his hearing and sight to confirm that it was, indeed, off. Lex was going to use business as an excuse to run from his poem. 

"So bring me down," Clark sped up as this was the last verse.   
"if down is where you are.   
I'll travel to the end.   
Love you, hold you.   
My whole life is there,   
to make sure you will mend." 

He stepped away from the microphone to signify the end of his poem. Lana, Whitney, Nell and Chloe all stood up to applaud him, as did a few farmers he knew and some kids from high school he recognized. The football team followed Whitney's lead and the cheerleader followed the football players. 

Through the warmth and applause, Clark saw two things that worried and scared him. One was Lex leaving the Talon in a rush, not even bothering to look at him, gripping hi beeper in his left hand. 

The other was Pete, glaring at him with the most hurt and sorrow filled eyes he'd ever seen.   
  
  
  
  
  
  



	10. The Poem

TITLE: Poetry in Motion (10/10)   
AUTHOR: Nymph Du Pave   
PAIRING: Lex Luthor/Clark Kent.   
RATING: PG-13   
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: nymph_du_pave@hotmail.com   


* * *

** Poetry in Motion**   
** by Nymph Du Pave**

_Chapter Ten: The Poem_

Chloe had never, in her whole life, seen such a sweet thing go all to hell. 

Pete stood up sharply, the Talon's chair falling behind him. She saw Clark's head whip from Lex's getaway exit to Pete. 

"And you knew." 

Chloe looked back to Pete. "What? Pete, I-" 

"I saw the encouraging smiles, the winks, the little looks in Lex's direction. Jesus, Chloe, am I the last here to know?" 

"I didn't even-" 

Pete looked between her and Clark. "Thanks guys. Thanks for including me in your life. Thanks for really understanding what the term 'best friends' means."   
  
Clark started down the steps. "It wasn't Chloe's fault, Pete. She tried-" 

"You thought I was going to hate you, or be weird around you, right?" Chloe saw the tears well up in Pete's eyes and she got a sudden flashback to the night he became intoxicated with the Nicodemus plant. "Just because I'm a guy, a guy who loves girls, that must mean I wouldn't understand that some people are born with different interests."   
  
"Pete, I-" she started. 

"Nevermind," he said, the tears starting to fall. "It's not like people don't see things and guess for themselves, and pray every time they see you that you'll finally deem them worthy of the truth, Clark. It's not like people can't guess on their own." 

"Pete," Chloe broke in. "Clark was just worried that-" 

"Why don't you tell him about your _entire_ meteor theory, Chloe," Pete cut in. "Since we're having the 'secrets we don't want to come out' discussion." 

_Oh, God! He wouldn't!_

"Pete!" 

"Tell him what you really think happened with his adoption papers, Chloe. Or better yet, tell him what you did with them." 

_Oh, fuck_. 

"I should have known better than to trust you the instant I came across that shit." 

Pete stormed out of the Talon. 

"What the hell was he talking about?!" Chloe turned back to see tears in Clark's eyes now as well. "What did you do with my adoption papers?" 

"I- Uh, Clark-" 

The anger on his face, the betrayal went well with the tears coursing down his cheeks. "I thought you got rid of them, Chloe," he said, and his heartbroken whisper tore her in two. "I thought you 'mentally nullified their existance'." Him throwing her words back at her… 

She couldn't handle this. 

Clark started for the backroom exit. 

"Clark!" 

She got up and ran, trying to catch up with him. When she threw open the door, he was no longer there. 

_Clark_, she thought. _If only you knew that it was things like that that gets people like me suspicious._

She suspected Clark had superspeed and superstrength, some other physical mutations from being exposed as a baby to the meteors. If only he'd tell the truth.   
  
She walked back into the Talon, retrieved her stuff and left, all the while trying to ignore the curious stares from the patrons in the Talon. 

It took about a minute and a half for her to realize the shit she'd just been thrown into. She'd lost Clark and Pete- who'd become _her_ Pete just a half hour earlier- in less than twenty seconds. All because of dishonesty. 

She ran back to the Talon, spotting a trash can in the alleyway next to it and relieved herself of two café lattes and a complementary croissant. She'd never felt so sick, so nauseous in her entire life. 

She stepped back and before she had time to even think to herself a piece of paper on the ground caught her attention. In most alleyways in the city, there were dozens and dozens, all different colors, all different shapes. But this was Smallville, and Smallville was a clean place, Lana a clean girl and therefore the Talon was usually immaculate. 

The fact that it was the only piece of paper on the ground and that it was lavender stood out. Chloe bent down to pick it up. It was folded four times into a pocket-sized square and she opened it, gasping at what she saw. 

  
By Your Side   
by Alexander J. Luthor   


_When the darkness reigns supreme,_   
_and no one's taking numbers,_   
_I'll be there to guard your back._   
_I'll be the one to take your side.___

_In my dreams we're together_   
_holding limbs in a light mist_   
_Everyone around us will pale_   
_in comparison to the strength___

_that we hold in our hearts_   
_that we hold in our minds_   
_that we have for each other_   
_Tell me my dreams can be real.___

_No one could find_   
_more devoted lovers_   
_domination from the underlords_   
_couldn't tear us apart___

_You, my angel, stand silently_   
_keeping vigil over us_   
_head bowed in light prayer_   
_on and on you protect what we cherish most___

_When the darkness reigns supreme,_   
_and no one's taking numbers,_   
_I'll be there to guard your back._   
_I'll be the one to take your side.___

_Archangel of my dreams_   
_Cherub that keeps me here_   
_Awake me from the nightmare_   
_Reach out and pull me in___

_I know the color of your eyes_   
_So bright and tangible_   
_I see myself, my other me_   
_inside your emerald protection___

_In my life the lightning flashes_   
_and the horrible thunder screams_   
_I can't see you there_   
_but I feel your saintly presence___

_You're the sun when it pours_   
_and sane when it's rough_   
_I've lost all faith in ideals_   
_But you bring back such hope___

_Walking the streets at night_   
_Alone, under a cloak of normal_   
_I cry all over again_   
_The sound of my feet the only solace___

_The words to my questions_   
_you'll never be able to give_   
_when you look my way, love_   
_ignore the stains of my tears___

_When the darkness reigns supreme,_   
_and no one's taking numbers,_   
_I'll be there to guard your back._   
_I'll be the one to take your side.___

_But you've got your own heart to follow_   
_your own soul to express_   
_find your other half, my love_   
_I'll salute your deserved delight___

_Alone in a world that seems so weary_   
_it's tired of my survival here_   
_no funny valentine by my side_   
_just a lonely heart with no tears to cry___

_When the darkness reigns supreme,_   
_and no one's taking numbers,_   
_I'll always guard your back._   
_I'll always take your side._   


She had to find Clark and mend things. This was a way to start.   
  
  
  
  
  
  


**The End**   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
